


The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series, Season 3

by ouatvs, RebelByrdie



Series: The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Once Upon a Time (Virtual Series)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, OUaTVS, Other, Season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 37,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5068180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ouatvs/pseuds/ouatvs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelByrdie/pseuds/RebelByrdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are excerpts of the written and illustrated re-imagining of the OUaT universe, using S1-S2 as canon, and diverging to our own much more culturally diverse and intentionally written OUaT, starting at S3. ONLY: Baelfire is not in TEF, and Ruby and Mulan never left. You can follow/favorite the updates this way, as an excerpt will be uploaded here when new eps are posted at ouatvs *dot* com.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 03x01 - And So It Begins (AKA "A Bumpy Ride")

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 1_  
_"And So It Begins"_  
_(aka "A Bumpy Ride")_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Illustrated By: Dalliance-Amongst-The-Stars_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants:_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Consistency & Continuity: Awkwardfangirlurl_

 ** _This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
_**It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_Publication Date: 07/11/2014_

* * *

 

The magic bean glimmered in the sunlight, a bright spot against Hook's weathered tan hand. When he threw it in the water, Regina felt the pulse of magic immediately, plain as the taste of salt on the air. The energy made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand at attention and her fingers twitch painfully. Regina braced herself as best she could and wrapped a rope around her arm to anchor herself. As they sailed towards the gaping blue maelstrom, she took one last look over her shoulder at Storybrooke: The town she had built, the town she had called home and raised her son in, the town she had so recently tried to wipe out of existence. Emma, who was holding on to the boom for dear life, was looking back too. There was silence, despite there being hundreds of things that desperately needed to be said, and then the world around them exploded.

It was a moment of barely controlled chaos. Magic crackled dangerously in the salty air as the portal opened in the usually gray Maine sea, the swirling waters opening like a mesmerizing cerulean eye, and at the focal point, the ship groaned once in resistance before giving way. The Jolly Roger teetered briefly, then fell, disappearing from Storybrooke's horizon.

Regina could feel the deck shudder beneath her boots, the wood groaning and creaking; she heard a rope snap and a canvas sail rip and she grit her teeth until her jaw ached. This barnacle-covered (my had she watched that cartoon with Henry one too many times!) overgrown rowboat was not going to hold together through the portal. And they could not rescue her son if they died before they even set foot in Neverland.

"Your floating death trap is going to fly apart, Pirate!" Regina's words were only barely audible over the rushing water and groaning timbers.

"Your dear Mother used her magic to hold the ship together for its last journey."

The mention of her mother made Regina wince, but she let the rope drop and raised her gloved hands. The magic burnt through her skin and ached in her joints, a sure sign that she had overextended herself. Her control was less precise and the price far more taxing, but the shimmer of violet energy did appear to be warring with the swirling blue of the portal. It was not enough, the violet flickered and waned, all but useless. She turned her head and her wet hair flipped around her cheek. She caught Rumpel's eye and he raised an eyebrow, as if to ask her if she really couldn't do this herself. It reminded her of the years she had spent learning how to use magic. She had not been amused then and she was not amused now. Whatever his reply might have been, he too raised his hands. The boat's shuddering settled, and its course, kept as keel as a one-handed pirate could keep it, steadied out.

The journey was jarring. There was no sky, and they were surrounded by unearthly glowing waters. It cast a menacing light on the ship and its ragtag crew. Fractured sapphire-hued light and odd flickering shadows painted the ship, lending a surreal, almost nightmarish quality to the scene. Regina's stomach, empty for more hours than she could accurately count, flipped, and she could taste bile on her tongue. She had never liked boats.

"Hold on!"

The sky, full of foreign stars, appeared, and the sense of vertigo that plagued them momentarily eased. The end of their journey was near. Regina braced herself and felt the oddest mix of weightlessness and gravity as they finally cleared the portal. There was a moment, a small and breathless second, that the phantom memory of a night spent flying through a cloudless sky in a far away time and kingdom washed over her. Then gravity, as inescapable as any other law of physics, reasserted itself, and they all came crashing down.

The ocean was flat, calm, placid. The surface of the water reflected the dark star-filled sky above it and at its horizon, it was quite impossible to tell sea from sky. The serenity was shattered-completely, however, by crackling lightning, a swirling vortex and sudden eruption of a ship from the sea. The notorious Jolly Roger leapt out of the dark waters and, for a moment defied gravity, before it came crashing back into waves below. The water, dark and clear, like an onyx looking glass, splashed up and around the ship, as if the sea itself was vehemently protesting the sudden introduction of wood and human on its surface.

Regina, without a solid hold on anything, lurched to the side only to be saved from falling overboard by a fast and hard introduction to the ship's side. The impact was sudden, sharp, and she wondered if one of her ribs had cracked. She catalogued her aches, and honestly couldn't tell which were old, new, better or worse. She tried to regain her footing, and after another small stumble, she did. She squared her shoulders, years of practice and training taking over, and turned once more to Hook.

"That was graceful, Pirate." Her voice dripped disdain and snark, "Was your last posting on the Titanic?" She rolled her eyes at his baffled expression and wondered why she had expected anything more.

* * *

Emma stood at the stern, watching the restless waves lap at the battered front of the ship. She glared hard at the vast empty sea, before turning towards the hold, determined to separate herself from Regina and Hook's pointless bickering. She could see Snow moving towards her, but David placed a firm hand on his wife's shoulder and shook his head, stopping her in her tracks. Emma would have to remember to thank him for that. The last thing she needed right now was a hug from Snow-Freaking-White.

She turned her attention back to where Regina was standing, or more like clinging to, the side of the ship. Her usually olive-toned skin was chalky, and she looked shaky, like one stiff breeze would knock her on her shapely ass. Emma shifted her weight from foot to foot, unsure of what to do.

Mr. Gold, however, had no such qualms. He brushed Snow and Hook aside and sauntered over to Regina like magically teleporting to the literal Never-Never Land was an everyday occurrence. He tilted his head and took in the former queen's discomfort, but did not seem especially concerned by it. He reached out, with no warning, and grabbed Regina's gloved hands. No one could ignore the wince that went across Regina's face or the quiet hiss of pain that accompanied it. She tried to pull her hands back, but Rumpelstiltskin held fast.

"You're not doing so well, Dearie."

Regina opened her mouth to retort but lost her words when he peeled off one of her black leather gloves. It was hard to tell from this angle and lighting exactly what had happened to the other woman's hands, but Emma could tell that it was not good. From what she could see, Regina's hand looked badly burned.

"You have a choice now, Your Majesty. I can tend to this for you, or Snow–" He paused. They both looked at Snow, seeing the woman had already pulled bandages from her backpack. He continued, "can wrap you up with bandages and boo-boo kisses. What will it be?"

She inclined her head, a Madam Mayor move Emma had seen a thousand times, and subtly winced again. "We will go below decks where you can at least see what you're doing." She looked at the rest of their motley crew, her eyes turning ice cold when she paused on Snow. "No rainbow kisses or unicorn print band-aids are necessary."

Regina then walked, shoulders straight, head held high, every inch the queen she had once been, passed the rest of them before descending into the crew's cabin and cargo hold. Gold followed her with a smirk on his face.

Emma waited all of thirty seconds before quietly following them. Maybe she didn't know all the voodoo magic and sailor-things she needed to know, but one thing she was very good at was staying quiet and blending into the background. They had been necessary survival skills from her past work and life. She hide behind a barrel and some rolled up canvas sails, intent on seeing exactly how hurt Regina really was and what Gold planned on doing about it.

* * *

They went below deck and when they were out of the way of prying eyes, Regina allowed her shoulders to slump. Keeping her knees stiff enough to hold herself upright had become a battle in and of itself, and she wasn't sure if it was the movement of the ship or the pain, but she was nauseated, bile constantly threatening to make an appearance.

Rumpelstiltskin removed her other glove and proceeded to turn her hands over to reveal what she had been hiding. The small charred black, scarlet streaked and painful blisters that the electric shocks had left on her fingers had worsened and spread. The very necessary overuse of her magic had done her no favors. The constant flow of magic from her hands while she had contained the trigger and then held the ship together had turned her usually pristine hands into a bloody and raw mess. She could see pieces of white bone and frayed and bloody muscle peeking out of blistered tissue. Faint flashes of violet and emerald magic played across her mutilated palms and left agonizing trails of pain in their wake. The price of magic, the price of putting her life on the line for people who would happily see her executed, had been high. If it hadn't been for Henry, she would have wondered if the damage was worth it.

"Not very pretty, dearie." She grit her teeth rather than hiss in pain. He waved a single hand over her wasted ones and the cool sensation of relief immediately replaced the pain. This time she couldn't control herself as she let out a small, shuddering sigh.

"I suppose it is pointless to tell you to rest and not use any more magic for a few days."

She glared at him but was too weary to say more than a simple, "I suppose it is."

The familiar, not-quite-comfortable tingle and itch of healing magic restored her body and made her think of the early days when magic had not come so easily to her and she had produced more mishaps than successes. Regina tried to ignore Rumpelstiltskin's clucks of disapproval now, just as she had done then. He turned his attention to the blisters on her temples, the one she had thought she had hidden with her hair, and harrumphed once more.

"Exhausting your magic will do you no good where we're going."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	2. 03x02 - Welcome Back (AKA "The Storm")

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 2_  
_"Welcome Back"_  
_(aka "The Storm")_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Illustrated By: Dalliance-Amongst-The-Stars_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_Publication Date: 07/25/2014_

* * *

 

The oil lantern swung back and forth, its weak yellow light revealing the cramped crew quarters of The Jolly Roger. Among the barrels, coils of rope and crates, two women slept in separate bunks.

Regina Mills was curled in a tight ball, hands cradled close to her chest, her dark hair spread across the thin pillow, strands cascading across her unusually pale face. She was still and quiet; the only signs of distress were her frown and furrowed brow.

Emma Swan, on the other hand (Regina's opposite in every way), thrashed in her bunk. Her hands squeezed into tight fists and she twisted from side to side, her boot-clad feet occasionally kicking an invisible enemy away from her.

_The loft apartment was exactly the same as it had been the first time she'd lived with Mary Margaret. Emma pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose and tugged at the plaid mini dress, all too aware of her ripped tights and worn-down Docs. David, dressed like the Fairytale Prince he really was, opened his arms wide and pulled her into one of his Papa-Bear hugs, his hand holding strong and fast to the back of her head. It was a gesture she was quickly becoming comfortable with._

_"My Emma. My Little Girl."_

_"Our Little Princess." A new voice, Mary Margaret's voice, only it wasn't Mary Margaret. It wasn't even Snow, not a version that Emma knew at least. Her hair was long and curled and fell in heavy ringlets over a white feathered dress. "Look at her Charming, she's perfect."_

_Emma pulled out of her father's arms to find herself in a long lavender dress, tight enough around her waist to crush her lungs and steal her breath. She wore glittering amethysts around her neck and wrist and a delicate platinum tiara, made of the finest diamonds the dwarves could mine. "Princess Emma," the Disney-fied version of Mary Margaret cooed, "You're going to be perfect and live happily ever after, you'll see." Only Emma didn't see; she couldn't see._

_"This isn't me," she said clearly, to no avail, as her parents' expressions remained the same. She tried to reach out to David and Mary Margaret (Snow White and Prince Charming?), whatever and whoever they were... But then they were fading away, becoming blurred and shapeless smears of colors, as if she was looking at them without her contacts in._

_"Mom!" The voice reached her in earnest and she reacted instinctively. She moved with purpose, now frantically searching for her son. Henry. She knew, deep down in her bones, that she had heard colors whirled around her, like she was stuck on a spinning carnival ride that just wouldn't quit. She felt dizzy, nauseated, and yet it wouldn't end. It would never end, she knew. The blue of the sky, the green of the grass, the yellow of her car and she just wanted it to stop. She just needed a moment, just one minute to stop and think and breathe._

_Henry ran towards her, arms held out wide. "Mom! Mom!" Suddenly she was back to that first night. Dressed in her skinny jeans, white tank top and red leather jacket. A bounty hunter who lived day to day, catching crooks who skipped out on their bond agreements for quick cash (usually spent on medium quality scotch, very good music and season tickets to the Bruins). What the hell did she know about being a parent?_

_"Mom!" Henry ran to her, looking no worse for the wear. She found herself confused and skeptical, her mind reaching for something she couldn't quite articulate. But here he was and he seemed fine, so as he wrapped his arms around her in a big hug, she let it ride. Whatever her mind had been trying to tell her could wait. "I knew you would save me."_

_Emma couldn't help but smile. "Well of course, Kid, I am your m-"_

_"The Savior!" Henry interrupted._

_She was growing to hate that title._

_"The Savior!"_

_Suddenly her arms were around nothing but thin air. "Henry!" she shouted, alarmed like only a mother could be, only barely hearing herself over the roaring din of people calling out for her._

_"The Savior! The Savior! The Savior!"_

_Voices swirled around her. It was like being in an underground metal club mosh pit, everyone screaming and thrashing with an untamable energy. It scared her. This was getting out of control, becoming dangerous. And where was her son? Then a hand grabbed onto her jacket. Emma tried to pull away, tried to find Henry, to find space, to get away, to run, but she was surrounded. Hands, of all shapes and sizes were reaching for her, grabbing onto her, ripping her apart._

_"Save me!"_

_"You're our only hope!"_

_"The Savior!"_

_They tugged and pulled. They groped and ripped. One hand was wrapped around her hair. One hand was wrapped around her knee. One hand, tipped with sharp dark red fingernails, sank into the soft skin between the bones of her wrist and wrapped around the boot lace, Graham's boot-lace, that she habitually wore._

_"Save me! Save me! Save me!" they moaned in discord._

_"Only you can save us!"_

_"Only you!" shouted another._

_"Only you can do it now, Emma. It's all up to you." That last voice there came through to her so clearly, so isolated, there was something. . . What was it? She strained to hear it again, certain she was onto something important. But then it was gone. In fact, all the voices and hands were gone now, all but for one unmistakable set, wrapped around her own._

_The portal was green and pulled at her, trying to tug her into it, back through to the Enchanted Forest or whatever backwards Fairytale dimension it wanted to throw her into. Neal, Baelfire, whatever, was holding onto her for dear life. His eyes- those intensely serious dark brown eyes that no longer held the gleam of youth and mischief that they once had-connected with hers. His hands started to slip through hers._

_"It's all up to you, Em."_

_She tried to hold him tighter, "I can't do this alone! Any of it! I'm not the Savior, I'm just-"_

_He slipped out of her grasp and fell into the swirling portal._

_She stared at the swirling green whirlpool as it grew bigger and bigger, swallowing everything whole. Then there was darkness, a new world floating into view around her. "I'm no one's savior." She said, her head dropping to her chest. She looked down at her hands. "I'm just-"_

_"Emma."_

_Her head snapped up. She knew that voice. Regina stood before her, deep in the mines once more. The diamond glowed as it floated midair in front of Regina. The other woman, Henry's other mother, was in the gray dress she'd been wearing the first time they'd met. Her lips were painted the same dark, slick red and they were was, however, her hands that captured Emma's attention. They were shaking. They were burning. The damage climbed from her fingertips to her wrists, magic rushing through her, over her olive skin, turning it into a charred and blistered mess._

_"Regina!"_

_She reached out to pull the woman away from the trigger or at least help her, but she was frozen in place._

_Regina's hands started to turn black and flake away, like embers and ash escaping a fire. A tear, shining like the diamond she fought to contain, slid down Regina's cheek. "Why won't you save me?" The burning flesh of her hands was flaking away and the damage was crawling up her arms, eating her alive._

_"Regina!" Emma yelled, trying desperately to stand, to reach her, to do anything at all, but she could not. She had to look on helplessly as Regina suffered._

_"Regina!"_

And at that, Emma sat straight up, thrusting the twisted scratchy wool blanket off of her legs, still trying to get away from something, everything. Her jaw was set, teeth ground together so hard she thought she heard a molar pop. She could still feel the unshed scream burning in her lungs. She pushed her sweaty hair out of her face and opened her jaw slowly, letting the strain wash over her without so much as a peep. As a rule, she never screamed, mumbled or moaned while sleeping. Screaming out during night terrors, no matter how legit they were, didn't work in your favor in the system. It could get you booted out of good homes, sent to see shrinks, sent to lock-down facilities, or worse, force-fed so many meds that you could pass for an extra in a zombie movie. Emma had seen it happen one-too-many times so she'd learned to keep her mouth shut, no matter how bad her dreams were.

She scooted to the edge of the tiny bunk bed and pushed off. It took a minute to get her footing because the ship was tossing pretty hard. It was like Hook had decided to drive/sail/whatever over the ocean's equivalent of rumble-strips or something. She looked over at the other bunk where Regina lay, still and quiet. She wasn't sure if the other woman was sleeping or not, but hoped so; she didn't wish nightmares like hers on anyone, let alone the woman who– she grabbed hold of the nearest wooden support, jarred suddenly to one side. It was jumbled in her head now, but the fear, the cold tingles in her spine, still prickled under her skin, almost like the fingers from the dream. The floor leveled momentarily and she let go and stretched, feeling her shoulders and vertebrae pop.

"Ow," she groaned, rubbing her sore neck. The ship heaved again and she struggled to pick herself up off the floor, distinctly remembering how it had felt to be tossed on her ass like a ragdoll in the mines. She used another wooden support to pull herself back up and had only started to catalog her bumps and bruises when suddenly the floor, the whole room really, tilted to the left. It was sudden and violent and completely surreal. She fell to the left like gravity owned her and only just avoided knocking her brains out on a spare oar. She briefly thanked her lucky stars, turning her head just in time to see Regina grab onto the edge of her bunk. If she hadn't been awake before, she definitely was now. Regina didn't even get a chance to say anything snarky before the hatch door flew open and Snow's face appeared. Her dark hair was plastered flat to her head and she looked paler than usual, her eyes wide.

"We need your help up here."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	3. 03x03 - First Blood

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 3_  
_"First Blood"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Illustrated By: Dalliance-Amongst-The-Stars_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: QueenOfAllSwans_  
_General Feedback and Development: Calculaic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_Publication Date: 08/15/2014_

* * *

 

The midday sun beat down on her, making the armor she wore like a second skin uncomfortably warm. She walked, leading two horses by their reins, and tried to focus on what lay ahead of her rather than behind. She was not a solitary creature by nature. In fact, she had spent so many years nestled within the rhythm of hundreds of feet and scores of hooves, that when faced with time alone, her mind often filled the solitude with thoughts and memories. Days under the Eastern Sun. Nights spent strategizing with Philip about how to rescue his princess. Hours spent watching a beanstalk waiting for the most peculiar woman to return. Ages spent worrying that she would never know honor. Gut wrenching minutes spent sifting through the rubble of a place she had called home.

She stumbled to a stop and pressed her face against the dark neck of her horse. Khan had been with her from the very beginning. Through peace, through war, through victory and disgrace. She let a few words of her own language slip out as she rested there. Khan blew out a breath as if he understood, and if a tear fell from her eye to his mane, he didn't seem to care.

She had seen war. She had walked amongst slaughtered enemies and friends alike, blood squelching under her boots. She had killed, had almost been killed. She had traveled much of the known world and seen much. Yet, she had never seen anything like the shattered ruins of the village she now left behind. They had called it 'Sanctuary', a small place away from the ogres and destruction where they could rebuild their lives. It had been a place of new beginnings, of renewed laughter and hope. Now, that was gone; utterly decimated by one single malevolent force. Cora.

Men, women, children. So many more than the small force that had attacked them. Cora had taken the heart of every person in the village. Their corpses were now stacked like cordwood. Their faces, forever twisted in horror and their chests empty. It was a nightmare, looking among the dead: little children wrapped tight in their parents' arms, tiny faces stretched in silent screams. Young girls gripping their pendants of protection and little boys holding sticks as if they were swords. Men gripping pitch forks and field scythes. It had all been for naught. They hadn't been warriors, or magicians; they were just refugees. They had been farmers, tanners and coopers, simple small folk who just wanted to see their children grow up, marry and have children of their own. Simple dreams that existed in all lands and all languages. Perhaps princesses like Snow White and Aurora wanted the fireworks and grand adventures, but Mulan knew happy endings didn't have to be so big or world-changing.

So many hopes, so many dreams, obliterated; their struggle, completely wasted. Cora hadn't shown one ounce of humanity. It hadn't been a battle; it had been a slaughter. Mulan vowed that she would, somehow, someway, kill Cora for all the lives she had ruined; she vowed it to herself and to the rising ashes and spirits of the innocents the wicked Queen of Hearts had mercilessly slain.

Mulan hadn't had time to bury the bodies, to her great shame. She couldn't risk leaving Aurora alone for too long, as the woods were full of ogres and worse. The princess had wanted to come along, but Mulan had been adamant. The warrior had known it would be bad, but what she had found—Mulan shuddered and lowered her head, so very glad she had not allowed it. Aurora did not need any more fodder for her nightmares, nor need to know the smell of death and the way it clung to clothes, hair and skin. She did not need to experience the crushing sound of silence and despair that filled every crevice where life used to exist. Mulan had scavenged what supplies she could: preserved foods, unsullied blankets, spare arrows, and of course, their horses. She took all of it back to the edge of the village before returning with several bottles of distilled spirits and a torch. She drenched the mound of death she had formed, took a few steps away and grabbed the torch she'd set aside; she doused that as well. It was time to say goodbye. Her heart fell with this task, but knew it to be the last honorable thing she could do for her village. She removed flint from her pack and quickly dragged her dagger across it; a tiny spark flew and connected with the torch. She stopped still, allowing herself one last moment to to mourn these people, this place, before she leaning forward. The fire licked the edge of the blankets she had used to cover them, igniting the mass funeral pyre. She would leave her people with their dignity and not ravaged by animals or other creatures; she would free their souls, something Cora had, along with their lives, denied them. She turned away quietly and did not look back. When she reached the treeline, she gathered the horses, and began the trip to camp, to Aurora.

She walked for a long time, lost in her own sorrow. She could still feel the heat on her back (or perhaps she only imagined she could), and the smoke still stung her eyes. The air had smelled of roasting flesh, and it permeated her nostrils, sickening her. The fact that she had done the right thing was of little consolation to the lives that had been lost; her heart was heavy. She crested a hill and just made out the tree line; Aurora and their camp was less than half a league away. She picked up her step. Maybe, just maybe, the princess's sweet laugh and deep blue eyes would take her mind away from the foulness of death and the bitterness of her own memories.

Aurora met her just a stone's throw away from their camp, where the grassy fields met the trees.

"Sampson!" she cried out, in unadulterated glee.

The horse, Philip's spirited gelding, let out a small whinny in response, obviously recognizing the princess. Mulan smiled. "And who is this other handsome gentleman?" Aurora turned to Khan and held her hand out, palm up, under his nose in greeting. Mulan gave him the soft command for "friend" and he tilted his head, as if considering whether he should follow her order or not. She pulled him close and rested her forehead on his muzzle. She gently chided him and reminded him to behave. Her own language flowed out of her throat like silk, so unlike the jerky and guttural Western language that she had become accustomed to using. She turned and pushed her hair away from her face, only to see Aurora smiling at her.

"What?"

Aurora blinked rapidly, as if startled by that single word. "Oh, nothing." she responded quickly, shaking her head and smiling, trying to mask what she had seen, had felt. She knew Mulan was uncomfortable having attention drawn to her, and so kept the soft, sweet thoughts to herself.

"Mulan, can we ride back to camp? It's been so long since I've ridden." It was not a long walk at all, a few minutes at best, but Mulan nodded, pleased with the distraction. Aurora held her hand out, requesting help up onto the horse, a princess through and through. Mulan smiled and took Aurora's hand, helping her mount Sampson's saddle. It was a warrior's saddle, made with the intention of keeping a rider mounted when fighting or galloping. Aurora, a lady to the core, sat in it, uncomfortably side saddle for about half a minute before moving one leg to the other side. She chuckled and rearranged her skirt to cover herself while riding astride.

Mulan's eyes met hers and they smiled at each other, something she wouldn't have thought possible only moments before, and mounted her own horse. Mulan gave a quick click with her tongue, and the horses began to move. They rode on into the sun- and shadow-dappled woods towards their camp, occasionally smiling at each other, finding comfort in their loss in this moment of peace together. Aurora began to hum some soft, sweet song about a dream Mulan had heard her singing before, and the warrior let the melody wash over her, each gentle note lifting darkness from her heart.

* * *

Aurora was not oblivious or a sheltered ninny. She could see the smoke in the air and smell the rot on Mulan's clothes. Most importantly, she could sense the sadness that radiated from her friend (they were friends, weren't they?) as soon as she had seen her. The village, their Sanctuary, was gone. She wanted to ask the other woman what she had seen, but having spent time with Cora, knew the heartless witch hadn't a drop of mercy in her entire body. Aurora's heart ached for the lives lost, and for Mulan—her silent warrior who thought she had to shoulder it all on her own. She wanted to help, to stand beside Mulan, but also knew she was laughably under-prepared for that task. She couldn't fight. She couldn't track animals in the forest and hunt. She couldn't even make a fire. She was not an adventurer or a treasure-seeker, she was a princess. She could dance, sew and knew how to curtsy to every level of nobility and royalty in the realm. For all the good that did her now. She had been raised to be a damsel, and did not do well with distress. Snow White had been a princess, too, and yet had shot a bow, wielded a sword, and had walked through the forest confidently, undeterred by the the wilderness. If the 'Fairest of Them All' could do it, so could she, right? She began to gather sticks and twigs for kindling, careful to avoid any vines that looked poisonous (see she knew that!). But in the time it had taken her to get thoroughly turned around and gather a measly arm-full of kindling, Mulan had improved their shelter, tended the horses, and reinforced the ring of rocks around their fire pit.

Aurora sighed. Mulan took the twigs and sticks from her with a nod and set about to making the fire. Aurora watched her competent movements, nothing elaborate or more complicated than it absolutely had to be: flint, steel, blow; it looked so simple. Surely she could do that.

Mulan bustled around the crackling fire, warming up dried fish and hard tack from the village for their dinner. It was a quiet meal, and Mulan, true to form, rose and tidied the camp before Aurora had half of her meal eaten.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	4. 03x04 - Home Sweet Home

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 4_  
_"Home Sweet Home"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Illustrated By: Dalliance-Amongst-The-Stars_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: AsraiaySoph_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_Publication Date: 09/05/2014_

* * *

 

The fire crackled and popped, sparks jumping into the air and floating up into the trees above them.

 _"Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires,"_ Henry sighed quietly, the voice of Smokey the Bear loud in his mind, a piece of something familiar. He had never been camping, unless camping in the backyard counts, and he wasn't sure it did or not. Probably not, especially since his Mom hadn't even let him have a campfire. Fires, she had told him, were for the fireplace. Which, in hindsight, was probably the silliest thing she'd ever said to him considering how many fireballs she threw all over the place.

He clenched his hands into fists and winced, the rope cutting into his wrists. If his mom had been there, he knew she would have magicked the ropes away before tending to his wounds. She would have rubbed Neosporin wherever he was cut, wrapped his raw skin in gauze, and placed gentle kisses to make them heal faster, better. She would make it  _all_  better. If his  _other_  mom had been there, she would have already beaten the snot out of Greg and Tamara. If his dad had been there— he felt tears gather in his eyes but clenched his jaw and forced them back. He wasn't going to let these—these  _villains—_ see him cry.

The adults were sitting on a log, while he sat on the cold ground on the other side of the camp fire. Greg (or was it Owen? Henry wasn't actually sure which was his real name), and Tamara were pressed against each other, Tamara's head rested on his shoulder, her dark hair falling across her face, hiding her eyes. They looked like a couple, like all the people on TV when they were dating. They looked like they were as close as his grandma and grandpa. How could that be?

"I thought you loved my Dad," he said without much thought, staring at Tamara and thinking about the day they had all had bagels together. He thought about how his mom, Emma, hadn't trusted Tamara. If only his dad had listened.

"Your Dad is an  _idiot_." Greg/Owen spat back. "Besides,  _brat_ , a father doesn't abandon his son. He didn't even care about you until you stumbled onto him in New York."

Henry felt anger bubble up inside of him, "My Dad is a hero!"

Greg/Owen, (Was he a fairy tale character too? Was that why he had two names? Henry didn't recognize him from The Book) scoffed and Tamara straightened up. Her face was serious, "Henry—" She pushed her hair out of her face, "no one that associates with that much magic can be a hero. I know you've seen how horrible magic is. The Dark Curse, the Sleeping Curse, the Queen of Hearts, the Dark One. Witches, curses, violence and death, nothing good comes from magic. It is destroying the world. It has to stop. Surely you understand that. Neal—" She paused, "Neal brought magic to a world that was never ever supposed to have magic in it."

Henry glared at her, and hoped that years of watching his mom glaring others into submission had rubbed off, "You don't know what you're talking about." She couldn't, could she? She had only known about magic since his Dad had brought her to Storybrooke, right?

"Sheltered little prick." Greg/Owen barked out, "You grew up in a little paradise run by your  _mother_  where everyone falls all over themselves to please you. You have  _no ide_ a what the real world is like. You think one little trip to The Big Apple makes you a world traveler, Kid? You're ignorant. Sheltered. A spoiled rich brat who doesn't know anything about anything."

Henry felt his face reddening. He wasn't a stupid kid. He knew more about magic than these jerks did! He had  _lived_  it, and considering that they were actually in Neverland, he was  _still living_  it.

"You don't know how dangerous magic really is. You just see a pretty light show and happy endings. People like you are destroying the world. Your whole town is a tumor and should be cut out of the world before the cancer spreads."

Henry scowled at them, hating them. Hating them like he imagined The Evil Queen hated Snow White, completely and with all his heart. They were bad, evil. They were talking about Storybrooke. His home, full of family and people that he had known and loved his whole life: Ruby, Archie, Baby Alexandra, Marco— and so many other people who didn't even have magic. Storybrooke was not cancer.

Henry stared past them, over their shoulders, at the jungle around them. It wasn't like the forest at home at all. It was hot, humid, scary, and resonated with a thick, heavy feeling full of foreboding, like a monster could pop out and devour them at any moment. He shivered despite himself.

He had to be brave, he reminded himself. Brave like David and Snow, brave like a Charming. He had to be strong and smart like Regina, like a Mills. He had to be tough and quick like Emma, like a Swan.

He didn't jump or cry out when he saw the first shadow move away from the dark. He watched it carefully and thought about when he'd seen Peter Pan with his Mom. Peter Pan's shadow had escaped and the cartoon boy had chased it all around Wendy, John, and Michael's nursery. Was this Peter's shadow? A second shadow, as silent and dark as the first, slipped out of the forest. Henry watched them with wide eyes; Greg/Owen and Tamara were ignoring him and didn't notice. Though he didn't know exactly what or who the shadows were, he started to tug at the rope around his wrist. He started to feel  _really_  scared. The shadows slithered towards the adults and Henry wondered if he should warn them. He didn't know. Was it good to warn the bad guys that something terrible was about to happen? Was it bad  _not_  to warn them? He truly didn't know.

The shadows came up behind Greg/Owen and Tamara, one on each side, and Henry bit his lip, afraid to make a sound either way. The shadows moved so fast! One wrapped its dark and strangely see-through arm around Greg/Owen's neck and pulled him backwards hard. The other shoved Tamara forward, just as hard, right into the fire. That made Henry forget silence, as he screamed and jerked backwards, digging the heels of his sneakers into the ground and pushing himself backwards, trying to get away. More shadows came from the jungle, surrounding them. Henry suddenly remembered why he slept with a nightlight and a flashlight.

"There's too many of them!" Greg/Owen shouted.

That's when the screaming and drum beats started, the night coming alive with sound and sense of danger. Henry looked around and all he could see was the dark jungle and shadows, alive and reaching for them. Henry kept backing up, but there were only more trees, more shadows, more screams and more pounding drums all around them. The noise, confusion and shadows were everywhere.

Tamara scrambled towards him and cut through the rope that bound his hands with a pocket knife. "It's going to be okay." she soothed, voice panicked and strained. But Henry didn't believe her.

"Owen we have to—"

She turned her head to look at her companion, but he was already gone, bald head bobbing away as he ran for perceived safety of the treeline. He did not look back, leaving them alone with the shadows. Tamara stood agape, staring after him. Tears gathered in her eyes and Henry realized that she might not have loved his dad, but she definitely loved Greg/Owen. The shadows pressed closer, grabbing at Tamara. The woman put an arm in front of him, protecting him, not taking her eyes from the invaders, "We have to run!" In a split second move, she turned on her heel and tugged him along with her; Henry just went with it. They hurried into the jungle, Henry's lungs burned but he wanted to see what was happening behind them, too. Tamara saw the movement and gripped his hand more tightly. "Don't look back at them, Kid. Don't look, don't blink. Just run." They ran, stumbling in the dark, through the endless, steamy jungle. Twigs scratched his face and hands. Vines, fallen limbs, and roots made him trip and almost fall, over and over. The drums were loud and fast, but it wasn't musical. It was wild and terrifying. He wanted it to stop. They splashed into a stream and Tamara fell over into it. She disappeared under the water and Henry cried out. He was waist-deep in the cold water, and didn't know what to do. She came out of the water with a splash and a deep breath, completely soaked.

"Ke—keep going!" She sputtered loudly at him, and they both waded to the other side of the stream. They stumbled and jogged, and Henry, his jeans wet and cold, almost ran into a tree. He stopped himself with his hands and scraped his palms on the rough bark.

The drums kept pounding, the shouts and screams seeming to get louder and closer. Tamara, too, had stopped. Her hair was slicked to her head and face. She looked around, eyes wide. "Hide!" she commanded, squeezing his hand again before releasing it.

Hide? She couldn't be serious!

When he didn't move, she pushed him into a bush and then threw vines over him, "Stay still. Don't move."

She pushed some of the leaves she was throwing over him off his face, and he was overwhelmed and still so very scared, "Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me? You're evil!"

Tamara looked down at him, and he swore he saw pain in her eyes. "You don't know what  _evil_  is."

Henry scowled up at her, "My Mom is the  _Evil_  Queen."

Tamara kept pulling vines and leaves off of the surrounding trees, "Well, then you and I have more in common than you think."

That didn't make sense, but before he could ask anything else, a loud scream echoed through the trees. It was a man's scream. Tamara's face crumpled for a moment, then she threw the pile of leaves over top of him, covering him completely. "Stay still. Don't make a move until sunrise. I'll come back for you."

Then she, too, was gone, flailing her arms, knocking into branches and vines, yelling and screaming, stomping on twigs, trying to get the shadows to chase her and leave him alone.

Henry curled up on the hard ground under his makeshift blanket of leaves and vines and began to cry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	5. 03x05 - Ripple Effect

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 5_  
_"Ripple Effect"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Illustrated By: Dalliance-Amongst-The-Stars, Konako,_  
_Napfreak, Mara-Artsy, and Love-Will-Have-Its-Sacrifices_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: QueenOfAllSwans_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_Publication Date: 09/26/2014_

* * *

 

When he had been a little boy just learning to direct lambs with a thin twig he called his "staff", his mother had always warned him not to wander too far away. "We wouldn't want Peter Pan to snatch you away from us," she would say. As he grew, the stories of Peter Pan, his Lost Boys, and Neverland became gorier, scarier tales, often told by boys to scare each other witless. They had been silly kid's stories, or so he had thought. Then again, one of David's friends had gone missing that very next summer, never to be seen again. Of course there had been hundreds of explanations for the boy's (David could no longer longer remember his name) disappearance. The possibility, though, that the child had been taken by Pan had stayed with David as he had grown, haunted him. He'd been around 12 summers when the other kid had not come home (David had been about Henry's age, now that he thought about it), and the tragic event had struck him deeply, a stark reminder that evil was real and stalked little boys in the night.

David wiped the sweat off his forehead again. That mind numbing fear of Pan, along with nightmares filled with shadows come for him, had faded as he grew from boy to man. Neverland's imaginary monsters had been replaced with real ones: ogres, dragons, greedy kings, evil queens, dark ones, giants, pirates, curses. Yet somehow, he had still ended up in Neverland. He could still hear his mother's voice telling him, "If that Pan boy gets a hold of you, you'll be gone, never to return. No little boys come back from Neverland." He sat there, the magnitude of knowing where he was, where  _Henry_  was, weighing heavily upon him. Fresh shivers slithered up his spine. They had to rescue Henry.  _Henry_ , the sweet boy who had Snow's chin (the exact same chin as Emma), a nose shaped like his own, and Neal's soft smile.  _Henry_ , the little boy who had been in David's care when he'd been taken, his  _grandson_ , was here in this godforsaken realm of nightmares. They had to get to him, and quickly.

David had always imagined he and Snow would be grandparents someday, and now they were, though not how they'd expected. In fact, much of their life had not gone as expected. He glanced over at Snow. Her short dark hair was mussed, standing up in damp tufts and spikes. Her skin, usually like porcelain, was sunburnt and peeling. Her lips were twisted in a scowl and she paced, full of restless energy. She was dressed in simple leathers, much like when they had first met. She carried the bow and quiver with the same grim determination as she had back then, her eyes flickering with same shades of fear and anger. In short, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. His wife, his soul mate, his True Love, his Snow. They had been walking for hours, the green and brown jungle unending and monotonous, the humidity thick, the foliage abrasive and annoying. They'd taken side trails occasionally, sometimes breaking off completely at Hook's lead. It was nothing like the forest David had known back home, in either the Enchanted Forest or Storybrooke. Even the small clearing they were resting in seemed haunted and wrong. It was like he could feel eyes on him at all times, but it was nothing he could see. It was unnerving as hell, and it was getting to them all.

"I am not here for a 'Save the Rainforest Charity Hike', Pirate. If I didn't know any better, I would say you're going in circles on purpose so you can stare sweetly at the Savior and pass notes like a sixth grader asking if she "like-likes" you."

Regina's voice had erupted into the clearing, thick with her signature brand of piss and vinegar. David flinched, momentarily feeling sorry for Hook before relief washed over him. It may not have been very kind or "charming", but he was glad not to be on the receiving end for once.

"Oh, I'm sorry,  _Your Majesty_. By all means, please take the lead through the jungle full of deadly booby traps, murderous boys, and magic so wild it drives trespassers mad. It sounds like your sort of trek."

Regina, David thought, was almost predictable in her rage. After so many years of sparring with her and Snow, he knew when each woman was about to lose it. And when one of these two was about to lose it, the other was usually not far—

On queue, Regina exploded again, "Excuse me? Might I remind you that you're one of reasons that my son is—"

"Enough!" Snow stood in the middle of the clearing, fists tight at her side, lips taut, eyes flashing wildly. "Both of you STOP IT. Just stop!" She slid her bow onto her shoulder, "I have had it with the BOTH OF YOU!" Her face was flush with with anger as well as the effects of the sun. Regina turned away sharply, obviously too caught up in her own anger to care much about Snow. Then again, David thought, considering their past, perhaps she just didn't care. Killian only curled his lip, leaned against a tree and drank from his ever-present flask.

Snow looked toward Emma, saw her rubbing her temples.

Snow set her jaw, fists still clenched. David knew his wife well and these were not good signs. Not good at all.

"I'm going back to that stream for water," she stated tersely, barely containing her rage.

They didn't need water, but David knew that Snow was just using that as an excuse to walk off her anger. He had made the mistake, only once, of commenting that she had inherited her father's kindness and Regina's temper. He now recognized and respected her when she got like this. He started to get up, to walk to her, "Would you like me to—"

But without even a glance his way, Snow replied with a curt, "No," and stomped off into the jungle without another word. He watched her disappear into the trees.

Emma took a step forward, "Should we go after her?"

David sank into the boulder and rested his chin on his fist. His back popped when he leaned over, reminding him that he'd spent the previous night on the hard ground. He had, at least slept. Regina and Emma looked exhausted, like they hadn't even closed their eyes. Hook was watching the jungle, his eyes darting between the shadows, hypervigilant. It made David's stomach clench, and not for the first time, he wondered not only what Hook's past was with this place, but what house of horrors was waiting for them. Wait. Waiting. The feeling of being watched was suddenly intense and he shifted his weight, needing to move, almost certain he'd heard actual breath on the breeze. This place was unimaginably creepy. How the World Without Magic had managed to turn Neverland into a whimsical fairytale, he would never understand.

Regina leaned against a tree, her arms wrapped around herself, her face locked in a sarcastic mask of indifference. She would have fooled him, once upon a time. Now he sees her for what she is: a woman who has lost everything and is desperate to recover her son. Magical? Yes. Evil? Probably. A Mother? Definitely.

"Did you ever tell him about this place?"

He didn't direct the question to anyone in particular, but Regina answered all the same, "The stories from the old world? No, I didn't want to scare him. Though he did love the Disney cartoon. We must have watched it a hundred times over the years. I never thought—" Regina shook her head and went silent.

Emma opened her mouth, but closed it without saying anything. Hook only scoffed.

David blew out a breath. Would  _he_  have told Emma the Pan tales, he wondered? Maybe? And if he had, would his little princess have been scared enough to want to sleep with her parents or would she have begged for more tales of adventure and horror?

He simply didn't know. He sighed silently. Another question about his daughter he would never have the answer to. He glanced at Regina, but did not have the energy or desire to blame her right now, seeing as how she was dealing with the loss of her own child.

David was in over his head, he knew this. He wasn't cut out for this life of adventure anymore. People called him Prince Charming, but he wasn't, not really. He was a shepherd who had taken over the life, name, and title of another man, his own twin brother. He was a fake prince–turned animal shelter volunteer–turned small town deputy. He didn't belong in Neverland. Neither did his wife, his daughter or Henry. Here they were, though, in the place of his childhood fears. They were here to save Henry. They had to save Henry. Family is  _everything_ , and after everything they'd been through, he won't rest, can't rest, until his family is whole and safe.

* * *

Snow White stormed through the forest, kicking vines and knocking leaves out of her way as she crashed through the underbrush. Red would have laughed at her and told her that the whole island would be able to track her. Red wasn't with them, though, and oh how Snow wished she was. She missed her best friend. But instead of Red, Granny, Grumpy and the rest of those she trusted, her family was accompanied by the Evil Queen and a Pirate. She had to deal with Regina's rage and Emma's silence and Neverland and she just couldn't. She just couldn't take anymore  _right now_. She was hot, sore, tired, and she smelled. She smelled like dirt, sweat, blood and jungle. She remembered long cold nights in the forest on the run from Regina. That had been so long ago, though, and she didn't miss those days in the slightest. She really didn't want to be in Neverland.  _Henry_  shouldn't be in Neverland. It had all happened so fast, and she knew Regina blamed her for losing him. One moment her sweet grandson had been in her arms, and the next he had been gone, torn away from her and sent to another realm, just like Emma.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	6. 03x06 - Just Like Magic

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 6_  
_"Just Like Magic"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Interim Art Director: Silverbluemoon_  
_Illustrated By: Konako_  
_Direct-to-Media Illustrator: Love-Will-Have-Its-Sacrifices_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: Asraiaysoph_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_  
_General Feedback and Development: Calculaic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_Publication Date: 10/17/2014_

* * *

 

It had seemed like such a good idea only an hour ago. Like most of her "good ideas", though, it had been a head-in-the-clouds fantasy—better on paper than real life. Belle felt wildly out of place in Regina Mill's pristine office. Her pink sundress seemed garish and neon-bright compared to the stark black and white room, even with the smart gray cardigan she'd paired with it. Everything was grandiose and elegant, just like the woman who had ruled their small sea-side world from within it. The still-fresh basket of blood red apples was a stark and menacing reminder that The Evil Queen was only out of the office temporarily. The only other thing besides herself that did not belong in the office was the bean plant. It still flourished quietly in its sealed glass case. The bean plant was trapped and it didn't even realize it; Regina's planter and this office were all it had ever known—a life of captivity—just like hers.

Belle harrumphed loudly to the empty room, planted her elbows on the desk, and set her head in her hands. She was giving up. She was a fool to think she could do this. Manage an entire town?—no scratch that— _Rebuild_  an entire town? Seriously? She could not do this. She had been raised to be a noblewoman, a true lady, not a bureaucrat. Practically speaking, she had spent more time as a prisoner and patient than anything else in her  _entire_  life. And wouldn't you know it, they just didn't give "How to Mayor" lessons at the Asylum. She groaned loudly, deeply, her head getting heavier in her hands with every breath. Soon she knew it would crush her arms and then the desk beneath them, and then the earth would swallow her up whole and honestly—what would it matter? She was useless, after all. And they would say at her eulogy, "Here lies Belle, who did nothing in her life except what someone else told her to."

Belle sighed. If Red were here, she'd probably tell her that her pout was adorable but it had to go, that there were things to  _do_. Her head fell further downward as if with the sheer burden of it all, and she moaned.  _But how, Red? How?_  After all, she barely knew where the office supplies were kept, let alone how to use the laptop thingy in the middle of the desk—LET ALONE fix every _thing_ —and every _one_ —else that was broken here. Storybrooke was in ruins! People were sick and hurt and the town was a mess. She was not an asset, she decided, but a hindrance to their progress. She should just give up now, let someone who knew what they were doing have the stage. Ruby would be her first choice in fact, she thought. This made her smile a bit and she raised her head, stared out at the room, and pictured Red's  _red face_  at the thought of being MAYOR. _Ha! That's what you get, Ruby, for razzing me in my own thoughts!_  She smirked a little at that and sat back. Ruby was an amazing friend, even when she wasn't  _actually_  there.

Acting Mayor French took a breath before opening her eyes again and wrinkled her nose at the little silver machine on her desk. She prodded at it vaguely with her index finger, annoyed by its mere presence. It was yet another reminder of what she did not know. Rumpel had tried to explain computers to her a few times, he had even shown her THE INTERNET: a veritable library of information that lived in wires and in the air like magic, but was actually all sorts of complicated.  _Who was the author of this Internet, anyway?_   _Was it actually a net of some sort?_  She had heard that there was a book of faces on (or in?) it, too, but wasn't really sure what a book had to do with a face.  _Was it an enchanted person stuck inside a book, like the genie in the Evil Queen's mirror?_  Belle frowned. Even if she knew how to use the contraption, she was sure Regina had a password to keep her files secure. Rumpel's had been "Baelfire", but Belle was reasonably sure Regina's password would be something different.  _All computers would not have the same password, would they?_ Surely that wouldn't make any sense.

Not terribly surprising, really, but many things in Storybrooke did not yet make sense to Belle. She had been locked away for twenty-eight years in the stale, dim, monotonous world of the Asylum and had only spent a handful of days wandering around free before she'd been shot, pushed over the town line and then turned into Lacey. Lacey, whose cursed memories only included the highlights of 1983 (what a year!), a disturbingly complicated and  _thorough_  knowledge of alcoholic beverages, and an almost encyclopedic knowledge of Rock and Roll History. She did not know how to use a computer, but she knew  _every word of every song_  Journey had ever performed. Perfect. That should take her far.

Belle had gone through the office a bit on the first day she'd entered, and had been so very happy to find  _actual paper files_. And all in precise alphabetical order by year and subject matter, too! But as she'd begun picking them up at random and perusing their contents, the smile had faded from her face; they still meant so little to her. She'd put them back and returned to Regina's desk (because the desk was, without a doubt, 100% Regina), had sat down and had felt very small, like a child. She remembered how, as a young girl, sitting at her father's desk in his very austere and kingly study, feeling so very small but excited. She had been completely bewildered—a little bit curious, too, but mostly confused—about how someone used the piece of furniture to rule kingdoms. She had gotten up, walked around it a few more times, then sat down again, hoping that would do the trick, that the knowledge would suddenly pour forth from the desk into her mind and she too would know everything about all things Queenly. Of course, it hadn't happened, and when she'd expressed her irritation loudly, her little hands in fists, her father had merely beckoned her to him, held her in his lap and smiled, saying, "All things with time, my dear."

_But now it was time, wasn't it, father? And where was the knowledge she needed?_

When three sharp raps on the door made her look up, the first words on her tongue were 'Regina isn't here' but stopped herself. Whoever was at the door knew that— _everyone_  knew that.

"Um—" What was she supposed to say? Her throat was suddenly ridiculously dry, and words were difficult. When they finally came, her voice was shrill and brimming with discomfort, "Come in?"

A tall, stately blonde walked in, looking far more confident and comfortable doing so than Belle had. She was dressed in a well-tailored black pants suit and blue silk blouse, her long golden mane pulled up in an elaborate twist—not a single hair out of place. She looked like she could be mayor.

"Mayor French," the woman greeted.

"Your Highn—" Belle cut her words short, "I mean Mrs. Nola—" But Belle stopped again, because that wasn't the woman's name, either.

The visitor smiled, "You can call me Kathryn, Regina did."

Belle found herself blushing and chuckled politely, but it sounded a little off, forced. "Yes, and I need to do exactly as Regina did." The bite in her words was not lost on either of them.

Kathryn walked to the desk, her heels clacking against the marble floor with every self-assured, perfectly refined step. When she grew close, she perched herself nonchalantly on the edge of the desk, as if she'd done so a hundred times before.  _Perhaps she has_ , Belle thought. After all, it was beginning to appear as of late that there was much more to Regina Mills than any of them had ever realized (or cared to realize). Honestly, she had been so horrible to all of them, why would any of them have tried to looked deeper, for an actual woman beneath the anger and dark magic?  _But maybe the Evil Queen had friends now_ , she thought.  _How bizarre._

"Well," Kathryn responded, her smile bright, wide, and full of humor, "don't start casting curses or handing out poisoned pastries, of course." She paused and took Belle in. "Regina has done many terrible things to be sure, things that can never be undone." Belle knew that was meant for her. "But there's no denying that as an administrator, she was the very best."

"Well," Belle replied, unable to keep the petulance from her voice, "she had twenty-eight years to figure everything out, didn't she!" Suddenly it all came rushing back to her how hopeless she was, and she groaned. She planted her elbows on the desk once more and cradled her head in her hands. Tears threatened as she croaked out, "I've had a day and a half and zero experience running a city!"

Kathryn chuckled, "While that may be true, we all have to start somewhere." She slid off the desk and sauntered over to a nearby filing cabinet (black oak, of course), and removed a thick, blue binder. She crossed back over to the desk, the picture of elegance and grace, and tilted it so Belle could read the cover.

"In Case of the Death or Impeachment of Regina Mills," Belle read aloud in astonishment.

Below the title, in prim, neat script, someone (most likely Regina herself), had added, "Mayoring for Dummies."

Belle reached for it, overcome with curiosity, and Kathryn passed it over to her, grinning. The binder was full— _nix that_ —absolutely  _stuffed_  with of pages upon pages of information: lists, charts, plans, procedures, policies. . . all of the city's functional processes were laid out, and like the paper files, all of it explicitly notated and cross-referenced. There was, apparently, a by-law for everything and by-laws about making by-laws. The small town of Storybrooke had a committee to determine committees. Belle felt panic rising in her chest, tears threatening once more.

"I can't do this," she said simply. She shut the binder and held it back out to Kathryn. "I'm simply not capable."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	7. 03x07 - Green

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 7_  
_"Green"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie and Swanqueengranger_  
_Illustrated By: Dalliance-Amongst-the-Stars and Silverbluemoon_  
_Direct-to-Media Illustrator: Love-Will-Have-Its-Sacrifices_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

 ** ** _This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** _**It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.**_

_**PLEASE NOTE: Due to the American Thanksgiving Holidays and losing two workdays, this episode has only been partially edited. You will find mistakes. They will be corrected over the course of the week. Thank you for understanding.** _

_Publication Date: 11/28/2014_

* * *

 

Another day in Never-Hell, Killian pushed his way through seemingly endless vegetation. Another interminable day of playing games with the one creature in all the realms more wicked than the Crocodile. He paused to take a long drink of the flask marked with an "M", not his own. This one was. . . special, and if it ever came to harm, he vied to rip out the destroyer's heart with his very non-magical hook. Just behind him, Emma Swan held the map, Jack's Map, and mumbled to herself as she tried to read it and discern the best path to Pan's Camp. Behind her, Snow White and her Prince Charming were ambling along, Snow never out of touching distance of her husband. Every once in a while, Hook would hear them whisper love and devotion to each other. There wasn't enough rum in the world to properly deal with them. He would have lashed out at them, but the memories of his Milah and how desperately in love with her he had been made him hold his tongue. Behind the lovebirds, Her Majesty brought up the rear. She hadn't spoken all morning. The forced cheerfulness brought on by yesterday's discovery of the map and Swan's magical triumph had faded away. He could feel Regina's dark eyes sending daggers into his back. It was a none-too-subtle reminder that he had unfinished and highly unpleasant business with the Queen.

A crash of leaves made him look over his shoulder just in time to see David fall against a tree and then to the ground.

"There's a clearing," Hook mumbled quietly to Swan, "just ahead."

The blonde, who struggled to be the leader she had proclaimed herself to be, nodded. "Let's take a break." The Happy Couple said nothing and Regina, obviously aggravated at the pause in their journey, pushed ahead and entered the clearing first.

It was a pretty enough place, he supposed. A large tree had fallen some time ago, allowing the sunlight to reach the jungle floor. Small saplings and underbrush grew around the downed tree, everything seemingly light and full of life; it was beautiful. It was, he reflected bitterly, another of Neverland's tricks.

He watched, not overly inclined to assist, as Snow and Swan helped David sit upon the old decaying trunk, pain and discomfort written plainly on Charming's strained, flushed and peeling face. Snow pushed her husband's shirt up to reveal the wound and the festering contagion around it. The gray patches, like a child with the pox or a decrepit leaper, had spread down his ribs and, over his abdominals, down past his belt. Hook shuddered at that implication. He took another drink; were it him, he would have rather have died a quick and bloody death. Anything was better than being slowly encrusted—the patches, surrounded by calcification of the skin, were rough and pitted, resembling barnacles stretched across the underbelly of a ship too long without dry-dock.

"Does it hurt?" Snow pressed close to the man, one hand running through his sweat-soaked hair, the other indicating the area of his wound.

"No. I don't feel pain, not really. It's stiff, d—" He paused for a moment, "it feels like it's already stone. I also feel heavy inside, link I'm encumbered but—"

"We'll fix this." Snow shushed him, obviously unable to handle any more talk of his affliction or impending death. "We always win.  _Good_  always wins." She rested her forehead in the crook of his neck. Killian felt like an intruder in the all-too-domestic scene. David said nothing as his wife laid against him, but the pain, that he refused to admit, burned in his blue eyes.

Killian scoffed at himself as he moved to offer Charming the flask. He was going soft. David took the flask with a nod and took a very healthy swig. Rum, it was good for everything that ailed you, for a moment or two at least. When the haze cleared, Prince Charming would still be turning into a rock, but for a little bit, he would be okay. Rum was bad form, but in it was the closest thing to magic most people would ever be able to achieve.

* * *

Her Da— _David_ , she corrected—was dying. He was turning into an over-grown lawn gnome and there was nothing they could do about it. Her father, whom she had pictured a thousand times in her mind over the years, was dying right in front of her and it was utter bullshit. She had  _magic_. Not David Copperfield TV illusions or sidewalk Three Card Monte sleight-of-hand, but  _real fairy tale magic_. She wished she knew how to make it better, the right thing to say, to comfort—but she didn't. Emma had no idea how to be the supportive princess/daughter/savior her parents so obviously expected—and regularly relied on—her to be.

So she turned to Regina who had settled to the ground, her back against a tree. "Isn't there a spell that can fix him? I have magic. You have magic. This whole place is magic." She watched the other woman's face as she turned, noting the "Miss Swan is an idiot" eyeroll and twitch of her lipstick-less lips.

"Magic, Miss Swan—"

Emma wanted to grab the other woman and shake her; they were in Freaking Neverland looking for their son, and still Regina insisted on calling her that!

"—is not a cure-all and it isn't all instantaneous. Even if we had the ingredients for a healing potion, which we don't, and I had my potion brewing tools, which I don't, there would still be a one-in-a-million chance we could create the correct anti-toxin on the first try."

Of course. Of freaking course there was a catch to the magic thing. It was all nice and emotional until you really needed it and suddenly there were strings. "So it's not an exact science, huh?" Her sarcasm was thick.

Regina met her tone. "There are different kinds of magics, Miss Swan, and different ways of using them. However, it just so happens that brewing a potion to save him  _is_  an exact science. It's closer to chemistry than sorcery." Her more-regal-than-thou voice insinuated Emma was a total moron, and the Savior seethed.

"So you don't know  _how_ , or you don't want to try? Which is it,  _Your Majesty_?" Emma clenched her fists at her sides. Regina was tap-dancing on her very last nerve.

The brunette shot to her feet, graceful even when enraged. There was a spark in her dark eyes and a tinge of red to her olive-toned skin. "Do not presume to lecture  _me_  about magic,  _dear_. You are a novice. You can't even conjure the simplest fireball."

She waved her left hand and sticks, stones, and moss began glowing a warm violet color. They rose from the ground, danced and swirled in the air, finally settling on the ground together in a perfectly formed fire pit. She cupped her right hand and a flickering orange and red fireball appeared. She hadn't furrowed her brow, broken a sweat, or even needed to concentrate. It had all been instantaneous, effortless. She let the fireball slide off of her fingertips and land on the kindling. "A child with a half a day's worth of training could do that. Some magically inclined toddlers can do it without training when throwing tantrums. If you know so much about magic, why can't you?"

She had moved into Emma's personal space by the time the last syllable left her lips, and they were practically nose-to-nose. Despite herself, Emma felt like—for the first time in forever and a day— things were almost normal. It was like those first few weeks after she'd moved to Storybrooke, all over again. The dynamic between them had been full of anger and challenges, everything always about Henry, Regina making her step up—even if she didn't think she could.

Emma's fists were so tight , she felt her nails dig into her palm. She had more than enough anger to start a little fire. She took a few steps back and opened her fists, willing her magic to make fire in her hands. Nothing happened, not even a spark.

"You'll get it next time, sweetheart," Snow called softly and Emma wanted to scream at her to shut up, but restrained herself. She felt humiliation rush through her. Stupid, toss-away failure Emma Swan who couldn't even make a little fire ball. She let her hands drop to her sides.

"Whatever," she grumbled, heading to her father's side and sitting on the dirt with a huff. "Well  _excuse me_  for not being some magical fucking fairy princess! They didn't exactly include spells and hexes in the Boston Public School curriculum and I never got my Hogwarts letter, go figure." She crossed her arms, "At least I'm trying to help. I don't hear any other ideas floating around."

"Now—" Everybody turned to look at Hook, "—that  _is_  an idea."

Emma furrowed her brow, "What is?"

The pirate captain flicked his thumb nail across the edge of his hook. "There is a fairy that lives on this island. She has something of a peace-treaty with Pan's Lot or she did before—"

He sounded less sure about the last part, he hesitated. She didn't need a superpower to know he was being shady. He wasn't outright lying, maybe, but he was definitely leaving something out. Knowing Hook, he had screwed the fairy in one way or another.

"She knows the island well, better than anyone outside of Pan himself. She has a tree house just—"

 _Oh hell no_ , Emma scrubbed her hands through her hair. There was no way he was talking about who she thought he was. She looked at him like he had ten heads and a tail. "You can't be serious."

He quirked a coal black brow in very real confusion, "Why wouldn't I be?"

She couldn't believe this was her life. Somedays she still expected to wake up back in Boston, hungover, from some kind of acid flashback dream. "You're _Captain Hook_  and we're on  _Neverland_  hunting down  _Peter Pan_  and there's a  _fairy_  you think might help us."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	8. 03x08 - Family Matters

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 8_  
_"Family Matters"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Illustrated By: Dalliance-Amongst-the-Stars_  
_Direct-to-Media Illustrator: Love-Will-Have-Its-Sacrifices_  
_Edited By: Notevildear-Wicked_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: AsraiaySoph_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.**_

_Publication Date: 12/25/2014_

* * *

 

**_Boston 1987_ **

_The inside of the little red car always smelled funny, and the smoke made her eyes and nose itchy._

_"Put that out, or at least roll down the window."_

_The front driver's side window rolled down, and a blast of cool wind blew into the car, making the medallion hanging on the rearview mirror spin. The red socks and letter B twirled and shined in the afternoon light._

_B was for Boston._

_The window rolled back up and the driver, a sandy haired man with glasses, sighed and switched on the radio. The last lines of Cyndi Lauper faded away, and for a moment the only sound was the sniffling of the blonde woman, rounded out by a baby-filled belly in the passenger seat._

_Then the pounding beat of the Beastie Boys fighting for their right to party began. She knew the song; it made her happy. She had her Mommy, her Daddy, her blankie, and her song. Mommy let her pick out her favorite pink jeans and her shirt with the shiny flowers. She hummed along, kicked her feet, covered in her dearest My Little Pony velcro shoes, and bounced happily. The barrettes in her hair clicked when she shook her head from side to side._

_Other cars zipped past them, and when they finally turned into a parking lot she hoped they were going to the grocery store. Every time they went to the grocery store she got to ride the horsey by the door._

_They pulled into a parking space, and she craned her head around to see. It didn't look like the grocery store, but there might still be a horsey or even a space ship. She wiggled and twisted and made the button on her seat go pop to set her free._

_She bounced, ready to be out of the car. Daddy got out first and slammed his door with a hard bang. Mommy got out and made the front seat go up. She moved slower because she had a baby in her tummy. It was a small parking lot with a few cars and a big building, but it didn't look like a store._

_"Where's this?"_

_There was a sign, The Massachusetts Department of Child and Family Welfare, and she could even make out some of the letters: C was for cookie._

_"Emma." Mommy bent down slowly to look at her. "I know this is hard to understand, but..." Tears started to fall from her eyes, like she had an owwie._

_"Mommy?"_

_"Oh Sweetie, I'm so sorry but we can't keep you anymore."_

_Emma looked from her Mommy to her Daddy; she really didn't understand._

_"Daddy?"_

_He looked at her though his glasses. "We're not your real parents, Emma."_

_"Johnny!" Mommy looked at him with a mad face and yelled at him._

_He bent over and placed a plastic Barbie suitcase, the one she'd put stickers all over, onto the ground._

_"It's the truth, Haley."_

_Emma felt her tummy squirm and a yucky taste in her mouth. She started to cry. "Daddy?" Why was he being mean? Why was Mommy crying? What had she done wrong?_

_"Daddy?"_

_He stepped away. "We need to go, Haley."_

_Mommy wiped her tears away and then moved a thumb over Emma's face, wiping away more. "We're going to leave you here with Mr. Saul, Honey. You remember Mr. Saul, don't you? He's going to take you to a new home and a new family who will love you just as much as we do."_

_Emma felt more tears coming. "But we a family."_

_Mommy stood up, tears pouring down her face anew. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart."_

_Daddy opened the car door, and Mommy got in and took her seat._

_"No!" Emma started to panic, "Don't go! I'll be good! I'll be good! I wanna stay with Mommy! Please!"_

_Mommy started to say something, but Emma couldn't hear her because Daddy slammed the car door. He didn't even look at her when he walked back around the car. He simply got in, and then he was gone and she was alone._

_Emma was all alone with Mr. Saul. The man was tall and brown with only a little bit of hair. He smelled yucky. Emma followed him, though, because she didn't know what else to do. He carried her suitcase but didn't hold her hand or even smile at her. She didn't want to go with him. She wanted to go home with Mommy and Daddy and play with Buster the doggy. She was supposed to be a big sister soon. They didn't want her anymore, though. Their names matched, they were supposed to all be together—the Swans. Yet somehow she hadn't been enough, and family wasn't forever like on tv. She stood and watched the car drive away with her blanket in her hand, dragging against the ground. It was all she had, because she didn't have a family anymore. Family was a red car driving away, never to be seen again._

Emma jerked awake, and her dream—her freaking  _memory—_ faded away. She curled her hands into fists. Regina storming off in a huff had triggered what one of the cut-rate therapists DCF had sent her to had labeled as 'separation anxiety', which was, apparently, rooted in the fact that her birth parents had left her on the side of the road when she was a baby. Go figure, that sort of thing could mess a person like her up for life.

Emma looked over at her parents. They were snuggled together, sharing their heat in the chilly Neverland morning. Of course—after all, they were the perfectly "happily ever after" couple whose kisses broke curses. Freaking ridiculous. The fairytale couple that could apparently do everything but raise their own daughter. Nope, instead they'd stuck her in a magical tree and said bon-voyage, baby. Enjoy the hard knock life, and come back big and strong to save us all from the Curse.

She sighed. What kind of parents did that to their kid? She had spent years of her life missing her son. Years of telling herself she had made the right decision. She had spent long nights drinking and dreaming of the life she could have had with him. She had given him up for his own good, so he could have a better life than she could have ever given him. Why had Snow and David given her up? To save their own asses. To free their happy little kingdom. To be their secret weapon against the Evil Queen. The Swans had given her up too, for their own good, so they could have a nice, shiny new baby. Bullshit. So much bullshit.

Then, just when she had her shit more or less together and thought she'd found a family and a home, things had gone tits up. Now, she was stuck in Neverland with a drunk pirate, her lovey-dovey parents, and no Regina or Henry. Henry had been  _taken_  away from them. Regina, Emma shook her head defiantly in the early morning light, Regina had  _left_  her—another red car driving away.

She sat up, knowing it was time to get up and face another day of Indiana Swan and The Island of Doom. Her personal shit storm of feelings would just have to wait.

* * *

Neal had been in some tight spots and terrible situations before, most of which had been on Neverland, actually. He chided himself because he used to be tougher, more familiar with this environment when he'd been a kid. Now he was old and fat, and he really wanted a handful of Excedrin and an ice cold beer. Oh, and nurses—pretty, pretty nurses in colorful scrubs who would bring him IV bags full of delicious drugs. There were no hospitals on Neverland, though, no pretty nurses, and not even ice to chill a damn beer. He pushed his way through the brush and sighed with relief when he found himself on a small rocky beach. It was another small safe haven which he hoped one other person still frequented.

Neal rummaged around the rocks until he found was he was looking for—a conch shell. He chuckled, lifted the shell to his lips, and spoke into the pink spiral of the shell. Then, he eased himself down to sit on a rock and wait. His arm and shoulder still ached and burned, but the nausea and other fun side effects from drinking the rancid berry wine had finally worn off. He didn't have to wait for long.

A splash alerted him to another presence, and Neal turned his head just in time to see a red gleam rise from the sea. The merman rose up, red hair slicked back against his scalp, and he grinned at Neal. His neck and chest were covered with strands of beads, shells, odds and ends, a cracked monocle, a gold fork, and a very familiar blue diamond. If James Cameron knew his story was real, he'd probably shit a solid gold brick.

The merman swam closer, so Neal pushed himself to his feet and waded out into the shallows to meet his old friend. "Ariel." He smiled for the first time since he'd come to. "You are a sight for sore eyes." The merperson smiled and reached out to poke Neal in the stomach.

It was like no time had passed at all, except that it had. "Yeah, yeah." Neal chuckled. "I'm a lot older and a little fatter." Ariel quirked a brow. "Okay, maybe a lot fatter."

They settled down in the shallows where the surf slid over the wet sand as they caught up. Neal felt his story spill out of him: Emma, August, Tamara, Henry, his Dad. Ariel was a good listener, and not just because he didn't have a voice. He wondered if the merman knew that Disney had made a fortune off a half-assed retelling of his story? Probably not. And honestly, movies were a pretty difficult concept to grasp and even harder to explain.

He handed Ariel an arrow without having to be asked, and they fell into their old methods of conversation using sketched out symbols in the sand and hand signals. Ariel had plenty of adventures of his own to share. It was almost like old times. They laughed together, relaxed, and for the first time since he'd arrived, Neal felt safe. "No I'm serious, Ariel. Storybrooke has this crazy-" he moved his finger around his temple without even thinking about it, "-mix of royalty and magic, and then you turn around and see cars and cell phones."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	9. 03x09 - It's a Trap!

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 9_  
_"It's a Trap!"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: HighHeelsAndChocolate_  
_Illustrated By: Napfreak_  
_Edited By: Notevildear-Wicked_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: QueenOfAllSwans_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_Publication Date: 02/13/2015_

* * *

 

The morning arose, just as muggy as Neal remembered it had always been. No winter. No spring. Just this constant, suffocating, wet summer that always looked far too pretty to be trusted. He rolled his good shoulder to ward off the mosquito buzzing around his chin. He was sticky and damp, and the air was clinging to him like dew. Gross. Much like how Hook seemed to be clinging to Emma.

Neal felt his own sweat beading along the new furrow lines in his forehead. The pirate didn't seem to understand what personal space meant. The man had practically glued himself to Emma's back in order to back-seat drive her map-following skills.

Now, Neal knew that he was nowhere close to being the walking, talking GPS of Neverland he had once been, but he was definitely a better navigator than Hook. Out on the seas, it might have been a different story, but in Neverland… Neverland he knew like the back of his hand. He'd had no choice.

And he'd be damned if he was going to let that smooth-talking pirate lead Emma astray. His own mother had abandoned him for the lies that man wove, and he wasn't about to let Emma get hypnotized by them as well.

The murmur of soft voices drifted up to his ears as he grumbled to himself, and Neal spared a sly glance over his shoulder at the iconic couple traipsing behind him. They were falling behind, just a bit. David had started to limp rather heavily on his left leg so he nearly had to drag the other behind him and Snow was shooting him worried glances every two steps he made. They had both put on brave faces this morning at camp, but right now they weren't fooling anyone. The prince's leg was clunking across the ground as if it was turning to stone.

'But if they wanted help, they'd ask for it,' Neal thought to himself. Because the last thing he needed to worry about right now was David's whole 'oil can, tin man' bit. He returned his eyes to face front just in time to see Hook's lips lean in way too close Emma's neck as he ducked forward to point at the map in her hands.

Yeah. That was gonna stop now.

Hook was practically purring in her ear, "…I know I warned against it before but if we just adjust course towards Crocodile Creek a wee bit, we can cut our journey in half."

Emma looked unconvinced. "And you're changing your story now why? I thought Tinkerbell's house was this way?" She poked angrily at the parchment in her hands. "God, I can't believe I just said that out loud."

"What?" The pirate smirked at her. "Are you worried about the crocodiles, love? Because those are long gone now. I saw to that."

"Yeah, right along with your hand."

Hook frowned. "Look, if you want to get to your boy before Pan has his way with him, I suggest you listen to me. It's for your own good."

"Yeah, but see Hook, the problem is that I don't trust you as far as I can spit," Emma spat back. "You sold us out to Cora AND you were working with Mendel and Tamara when they tortured my kid's other mom to within an inch of her life, remember? So forgive me if I'm not one-hundred percent sold on your shortcut!"

Neal jogged up beside them in the brush. "What shortcut?"

Emma whirled to pierce him with a frown, but in the effort also ended up smacking Hook across the face with a mouth-full of her hair. Neal smiled.

"Hook says he knows a shortcut to get to Tink's. Do you know about this?"

Neal puffed out his chest a bit to raise himself up a few inches. Man, that pirate was tall. "Maybe. I know about lots of shortcuts. I know this island better than anyone."

Hook scoffed low in his throat. "I doubt that, mate."

Neal felt his face contort into a glare. "Hey, I've survived here a lot longer than you have, buddy."

The effect of his statement was lost a little, however, when a bug that whizzed too close to his ear sounded off like a shooting arrow and he jumped out of his skin. Neal swatted angrily at the insect and then rubbed his ear for good measure, just to make sure he'd gotten rid of the faulty noise. This place was starting to get to him. The jungle was too hot, the earth too alive. He had to survive.

"So what's the shortcut ol' One-Hand had in mind?"

Bushes rustled with beasts unseen. Wolf cries made by children howled through the air. His feet pounded against the ground like his heart against his ribcage. He tripped. He was crying. Hands scraped and bloody. Nose running with snot. Pan's shadow was a like a black hole hovering against an already ebony night.

Neal shook his head to try and clear it, hoping his face didn't look as pale as it felt. It's not like he'd had anyone to talk with about all of this stuff. He'd just shoved it down, shoved it down, shoved it down and tried to act fine. And it's not like he could have even sought treatment for this whole situation anyway, even if he HAD wanted to talk about what happened. Which he didn't. That was a one-way ticket to a straight-jacket hug and he knew it.

Emma was muttering to him again. "He said he wants to go by Crocodile Creek. You think it's faster?"

Neal's eyes flashed up to Hook, who was sipping from that goddamn flask again. "Why the hell would you take us that way?"

The man shrugged. "I told you, I know a shortcut."

"I don't know any shortcuts there."

"Then maybe your boyish memory isn't as airtight as you once thought," Hook simmered, and he ended up looking just bored enough with this conversation to irritate the shit out of his competing suitor. "After all, I was an adult when I visited her."

Neal's hands fisted hard at his sides. "What are you playing at, man?"

"If we go my way, we can be there in less than a day," Hook argued.

"Yeah, okay, and what else will we find on this…" Neal pushed towards the pirate, "…'way' of yours, hm? That creek is the perfect spot for an ambush!"

Hook's chin jutted back in offense. "What is that supposed to mean, Baelfire?"

"Don't call me that, you traitor!"

"I'm only trying to help Emma find her son–"

"He's my son, too!"

Emma's loud groan burst from between them as she purposefully picked up her pace to separate herself. Neal recognized the angry set of her shoulders from the start of every fight he'd ever been in with her. And that did not bode well at all. For anyone.

"I swear to God, if you two don't stop fighting like freaking idiots I will fireball you both back to Fairytale Land."

Hook's eyebrows crawled up his face as he lifted his flask back up to his lips again. "Someone's been spending a bit too much time with the Queen," he muttered.

Emma stopped dead in her tracks and spun on the spot, the map creasing between her clenched fingers. And yep, there were the angry shoulders. "And someone's been spending too much time with his fucking flask and back-up flask. Seriously, who even has a back-up flask?"

"It's not my flask."

Emma rolled her eyes and started shoving through the foliage again. "Right. And who'd you steal it from? Little Jack Horner?"

Both Neal and Hook took double-steps to catch up to her sides, but Hook caught up to her first. Neal unfortunately took an errant branch to the face in the backlash of their Savior's violent trek through nature. The pirate chuckled in retribution.

"No, it was a gift, you see, Swan. A matching set, enchanted to never be empty." He fingered the cap of the one engraved with a large cursive 'M'. "One for me and one for–"

Neal finished the pirate's sentence for him. "Milah," he growled.

Emma's emerald eyes were on him in an instant. "Who the hell is Mil–"

And suddenly they were falling, plummeting into the earth and screeching all the way. The ground beneath them had disappeared and it was breathtaking and terrifying, and for one glorious moment he was reminded of days long past, when he and Emma had been young and fearless and had sought out adrenaline rushes like leaping into the air and falling into the tropical water of Mexico.

Only this time Emma wasn't holding his hand, and the screaming was definitely different.

Everyone was screaming. Emma was screaming. David was screaming. Snow was shrieking like a bird about to be butchered, and even Hook had allowed himself one sharp shout of surprise before surrendering himself to the whooshing of air around them.

Neal realized that he must have been screaming too, for when he finally plunged into the cenote below with all the grace of a mallet to concrete, his mouth was instantly plugged with water. It was probably a good thing, because he kept screaming. Boy, did he keep screaming. The impact of his body weight against the surface of the water spiked a pain so horrific through his injured shoulder that Neal's body curled in on itself on instinct and sunk a few feet lower into the lagoon than everyone else's.

The water was pleasantly lukewarm, like bathwater, and for a second he let himself be lulled by its depths, desperate for anything to soothe the ricocheting muscle spasms as he floated, submerged in the underground pool.

That was, until he opened his eyes and came face to face with the ghostly white bones of an unfortunate soul who had not been so lucky as to make it out of his current predicament.

Neal immediately flailed away from the little boy's skeleton, pinwheeling his good arm as fast as he could and backpedal-thrashing his legs out-of-sync as the last of his air escaped in an eruption of startled bubbles. His brain roared at the sight, his lungs burned with the lack of oxygen, and his shoulder was throbbing with its own heartbeat, but if anything, Neal was a survivor. Escaping death on this island was something he had become quite accustomed to in the past. He only hoped that now that he was older, his odds had gotten better. Or at the very least stayed the same.

But in all honesty, that wasn't very likely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	10. 03x10 - We Can Be Heroes

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 10_  
_"We Can Be Heroes"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Illustrated By: Konako_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.**_

_Publication Date: 03/07/2015_

* * *

 

The unholy screech of the electric alarm clock cut through her sleep and into her dreams. Ashley (or was she supposed to be Ella again?) reached out blindly and swatted at the machine. Not that alarms back in the old world had been any better. She had hated the bells that had connected her small closet-sized bedroom off of the kitchen to her stepmother and sisters' room. They, too, had woken her every day before dawn. She didn't have to worry about them anymore, though; she had her own family to tend to. She had a daughter now, and just thinking about her precious little girl got her up and moving. Her calves, still sore from yesterday's double shift, were tight, and she winced when she put her full weight on her feet. She stood though and curled her toes into the the threadbare tan carpet. Her nightgown was a soft, oversized Storybrooke High Knights t-shirt that her false memories told her Sean gave her when they dated in High School, and it was almost too thin. The weather was getting cooler, and in Maine there was a very short time between falling leaves and falling snow.

She walked from her bedroom and into the living room. Thomas, her own Prince Charming, was asleep on the couch with Modern Warfare still flashing on the television screen, controller on his stomach. She turned away from him and walked to the second, much smaller bedroom. She had painted it pink when they moved in, because what little princess didn't like pink? The fluffy white kittens and lace curtains matched the white trim she had fussed over. It was a perfect little room for her little girl. The only thing she hadn't picked out was the furniture; the gorgeous oak crib, changing table and the bassinet had been gifts from Regina Mills. The Evil Queen had given her the furniture with a negligent flick of her hair. "It's not as if Henry still needs it, dear." If she had known then what she knew now she would have— Ashley shook her head, though. Regardless of where that thought has been headed, she knew she would have still accepted the gift. The furniture, though over a decade old, was gorgeous and far far nicer than what she and Thomas could have been able to buy.

Alexandra, her Little Princess, peeked at her between the bars of the crib. Her bright green eyes sparkled, and her little fist curled around a white stuffed cat toy that Ashley would swear she'd named "Ree". Her baby's smile was so big that her pacifier fell out from between her lips.

"Mama," spoke the breathy tiny voice.

There was nothing in the world as magical to Ashley as hearing Alexandra call her "Mama". Nothing. The little girl, all dimples and golden curls, abandoned her stuffed toy and reached for her mother, all ready for morning cuddles.

Ashley let herself revel in the moment, in the feel of her daughter, damp diaper and all, in her arms. The morning routine, as set in stone as any routine that involved a toddler could be, began. She changed and dressed Alexandra and worried that even with tights, her daughter wouldn't be warm enough. Though she spent hours combing through sales and bargains, there simply wasn't a market in Storybrooke for toddler clothes. Which wasn't really surprising, since Alex was exactly the second baby in Storybrooke in twenty-eight years. Thank God for Amazon, though, Ashley didn't dare try to figure out how the shipments got over the line, she was just glad that they did. For the most part, she had decided that the seemingly strange exception of package mail had to be the result of some dark shopaholic streak Regina couldn't control. She chuckled at the thought, and Alex, half-dressed in her tights and plain white cotton onesie, kicked and giggled, too, even though she had no idea what her mommy was laughing about. Finally dressed, complete with a fuzzy jacket with floppy rabbit ears on the hood and tiny sneakers with pink rhinestones on them, she planted Alex on her hip and walked out to the living room. She sighed and wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing the right thing. This wasn't the happily ever after she was supposed to have, was it? A low-end apartment in a tiny town, a job she worked doubles at just to get by, and a Prince who seemed more interested in video games, fantasy football and hanging with his "boys" than their baby. Was this Happily Ever After? She did not know. She flicked the overhead light on and off again until a groan rose from the lump on the couch.

"Why'd you do that?"

Ashley counted to five in her head, "Because I have to shower before work, and Alexandra needs her father to take care of her." Then, before he could complain, she deposited  _their_  child on his lap and hoped he didn't have Dorrito crumbs on his clothes—again. Alexandra, very much a Mommy's Girl, let out a small grumble that was usually the predecessor to a full blown tantrum.

"Mama," Alex said breathily, reaching for her.

Ashley leaned over the back of the couch, "Be good for Daddy for a few minutes, baby," and kissed her daughter on the top of her head.

Her shower—short because their hot water heater was about half the size of a normal one—was just another amenity of Forest View Luxury Apartments.  _Luxury_ , Ashley scoffed as she towel-dried her hair,  _what a joke_. Also, the view only included the forest if you had binoculars, but since Mr. Gold was the landlord, exactly zero people complained. She finger-combed gel into her hair and twisted it into a serviceable bun before starting to dress, pulling her Diner uniform onto still damp skin. Thank God she had lost the baby weight so quickly. The short red skirt and fitted white shirt uniform didn't leave much to the imagination; her matching red, off-brand canvas were by the door. She took one last look in the mirror before leaving to retrieve them, and saw not Ashley or even Ella, just Cinders-Ella—the girl who was forced to be a servant in her own home. Would she ever be a princess again? She wanted that life for Alexandra, not the one she'd been forced to live.

She shook her head; there was no time for fairy tales anymore, not when there was work to be done. The living room was full of light and sound; Sean was playing his game and the loud explosions, gunshots and shouting had him glued to the scene. Alex had her little hands over her ears. Sean had popped her pacifier back in her mouth, or she bet the baby would be crying.

Ashley wanted to rip the XBox's cord out of the wall.

"How many times have I told you not to play violent games with the baby right there?" she accused, hands on hips.

He didn't even pause the game. "She doesn't even know what it is, Ella. It's just bright colors and stuff—shit!" He jammed buttons and jerked to the side, as if his movement would help the character on the screen survive. It didn't.

She counted to ten in her head, "Watch the language, she's repeating!" She didn't have to see his face to know that he was rolling his eyes. "Courtney will be over at eight to get Alex and then—"

He yawned, "Eight? That's so late. I was about to head to bed. Can't she just pick her up from Grannys? I thought that old Wolf said it was okay for you to take her in with you."

She sighed yet again. "The Diner during the breakfast rush isn't exactly the best place for a toddler. She doesn't just lay in her carrier and sleep through it all anymore."

Instead of starting another round, Thomas let the controller fall to the floor negligently and stretched, "You should just quit."

Ashley opened her mouth to scream. To scream they don't have enough money for her to stay at home. Sean only worked four days a week at the cannery and his little extras like the XBox Live Membership, beer, and DVDs, often cut into the necessary budget items like diapers, groceries, and car insurance. She closed her mouth without a word and counted to fifteen in her head.

"Well, I can't quit, and if I don't leave in the next two minutes, I will be late."

Sean turned to look at her, "We're royalty, Ella. We shouldn't have to work like  _dogs_. Snow and David didn't stick to their curse-jobs. They got to declare themselves rulers of Storybrooke. Like they were the only ones with a royal pedigree. You didn't see Snow White rushing to make it the elementary school everyday—nope. They won't even put me on first shift, do you believe that? I have to work second shift; it's undignified."

Ashley knew when Thomas said  _dogs_ , that his disgusted tone meant  _peasants_ , and for a prince born with a silver spoon in his mouth, there was nothing worse.

"And I especially don't like you working for those  _monsters_."

It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, and Ashley could feel a headache coming on. She wasn't even surprised by his reaction; she had already put Alexandra's jacket on, a step ahead. She picked up her girl, and sighed. She had a double shift ahead of her, and a clattering, coughing, cheap Chevy Cavalier that she needed to coax into getting her where she needed to go, at least one more time. Just a few more payments, and it would be all hers. The tips that were waiting on her would make that payment, and working a double would make the difference between creative cooking with ramen noodles and fresh groceries. So as Thomas stumbled towards the bedroom to sleep, she walked to the door with Alexandra's diaper bag over one shoulder, and her baby's head resting against the other.

She was about to open the door to walk out into the morning air when Thomas's voice stopped her.

"I could be a hero too, you know. You don't have to run off to freaking Neverland to be a hero. I could be the best hero Storybrooke has ever seen if I got the chance."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	11. 03x11 - Once Upon a Dream

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 11_  
_"Once Upon a Dream"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Illustrated By: Emclainable_  
_Edited By: NotEvilDear-Wicked_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** _ **_It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion_.**

_Publication Date: 03/27/2015_

* * *

 

_Once Upon a Time, there was a kind King and a beautiful Queen, and they lived in a peaceful, prosperous paradise of a kingdom. King Stefan and Queen Leah had truly found their happily ever after. Except. Except they did not have a child. Many years passed, and their nursery room, decorated with glowing golden suns and shining silver moons, remained empty. Finally one night, while the winds blew from the west bringing a storm that smelled of lightning and rain, Leah wandered into the castle's gardens and fell to her knees. She wished, with all of her heart and soul, for a child as the clouds cloaked the starry sky. The Blue Fairy, the oldest, most powerful and kindest of all the fairies, heard Leah's wish through the storm clouds and could not deny the wish. She appeared before the Queen and promised that her wish would be granted; she and the King would have their child._

_Nine months later, as the first rays of the spring sun shone through the grand stained glass window of the Queen's chamber, a princess was born. The King and Queen were overjoyed, the kingdom rejoiced, and even the fairies celebrated the babe's birth. All were joyful and sang the praises of their benevolent royal family. All but one. The fallen fairy did not celebrate. The dispensable sorceress, whose name brought terror and woe when it was fearfully whispered, was not joyful. Maleficent saw the birth not as a blessing, but as an opportunity to spread her evil._

_On the day of the babe's naming and presentation, there was a lavish gathering. The royalty, the nobility, the gentry, the small folk, and even a large envoy of fairies had gathered to welcome the Princess of the Dawn, Aurora, to the world._

_One person was not invited, but she attended anyway. Maleficent appeared in a swirl of brimstone, ash, and black smoke that blocked out the window's light and made people choke and cough. Queen Leah pulled her daughter, dressed in a flowing white satin and lace gown, to her chest. Men pulled their swords and ladies swooned. King Stefan stood, strong and brave, to protect his True Love and their baby._

_Maleficent, her lips glowing pink from the blood of unicorns and virgins, crept along the main aisle as people drew away, dragging their ladies and children back from the vile woman. Her staff, twisted oak topped with an orb made from the stolen tears of her victims, tapped against the polished marble floor._

" _What do you want, Witch?" Stefan's baritone echoed through the otherwise silent chamber. His knights, shining in armor with their weapons at the ready, waited for their king's signal._

_Maleficent laughed at the sight. She threw back her wild golden curls and cackled, sounding off like the screech of a rabid beast._

" _Why, I've come to honor the Princess, of course. Such an auspicious day, I can't imagine why I wasn't invited." She paused and pursed her lips in a mock-pout. "I suppose the messenger lost his way to my Fortress."_

_The fairies, floating in a protective circle around the Queen and Princess, shuddered at the mention of her hellish haven._

" _You're not wanted here, Maleficent." Stefan all but growled. The rattle of metal from his loyal soldiers backed up his words with deadly intent._

" _Oh." Maleficent tossed her hair again, "but I come bearing a gift for little Aurora."_

" _No." Leah's word was barely a whisper, but it seemed to echo as loud as her husband's words._

_Maleficent's eyes glowed with unholy fire. "Yes." She raised her arms, and the shadow on the floor seemed to belong to something more like a beast than a woman. "Before the sun sets on her seventeenth birthday, the Princess will-" She closed her eyes as if to consider her diabolical options, "prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and fall into a deep sleep from which she will never awaken!"_

_The gathered crowd gasped in horror._

" _Seize her!"_

_Stefan's brave knights surged forward, but Maleficent dissolved in a swirl of smoke as black as her heart with an insane cackle of malevolent glee._

_Leah clung to her child as tears slid down her face. Aurora looked up at her mother with nothing but innocence in her newborn blue eyes. She had no idea, no understanding, that her bright and beautiful life had just been cut brutally short with a few words._

" _Fear not," the Blue Fairy comforted, shimmering for a moment before appearing as a full-sized woman with gossamer wings and a smile on her face. "There is one power that can break any curse, no matter how terrible. True Love's Kiss shall save Aurora."_

* * *

Aurora had heard the story, her own story, so many times. Hundreds of times, perhaps more? She walked through the Forbidden Fortress and could not help but think of the tale. Emma Swan had said that her story was known even in the other world. She was a Disney Classic, whatever that meant.

" _I mean, every kid in the world knows your story, well sort of. I mean, Mulan is famous too, but that's a different movie."_

She had wanted to know more, but Emma had only shaken her head and advised her that it was too complicated to explain and that she would  _"blow a fuse"_  if she attempted to explain it all.

That was something of a running theme in her life, things being too complicated to be explained to her. Like why, exactly, Maleficent had cursed her. She had heard the story from servants, tutors, her parents, her aunties, and there was even a movie, whatever that was, but she didn't understand why. She walked around Maleficent's library and couldn't help but think that it looked like any other library in any other castle. Well, it was perhaps larger and more focused than other libraries. There were countless books and scrolls about magic, but nothing seemed overtly evil. There were no books bound in human flesh and written in blood, just dusty tomes that would not have looked out of place in her father's study or her own childhood classroom.

Another room held what looked like an apothecary's shop, it was full of bottles and tubes, herbs hung on hooks to dry and a cauldron hung over a cold fire pit. She read over the bottles' labels, but there was nothing that seemed poisonous or even dangerous; there wasn't a vial marked sleeping curse or drought of death. For an evil sorceress's lair, it was a bit underwhelming. She found a bed chamber with a large unmade bed. There was a burnt-down candle on the side table and a decanter that might have once held water or wine. There was a sitting room with an opulent fireplace and more books. There were a few decorations but again, it seemed almost plain. Where was the torture dungeon? Where was the pit full of eaten peasants' bones? Where was the evil dragon sorceress that she had feared her entire life? This fortress, forbidden to all but the sorceress herself, seemed almost homey. Especially, Aurora smiled, with Seraph around. Well it might have been homey, once, but now it was drafty, dusty, and desolate. Aurora looked around and saw a chessboard, apparently abandoned halfway through a game. She wiped her fingers through the dust and picked up one of the black pawns from its place on the board. Her aunts had taught her how to play chess as a child, and she had been atrocious at it. She'd had little patience for the strategy and deep thought involved in the game. It had been a nice way to pass a long winter evening, though. She had never imagined that Maleficent would do something so human as playing a game of chess.

"It isn't what I expected, honestly." She voiced her thoughts for holding them inside any longer might cause her to explode.

"What did you expect, exactly?" Mulan arched a dark brow and looked at her curiously.

Aurora shrugged and placed the pawn back in its place on the board. She wondered, surreptitiously, if Mulan knew how to play the game. "More evil, I suppose. I grew up hearing horror stories about the Mistress of All Evil. She cursed me when I was a baby. Honestly, this Forbidden Fortress doesn't look very different from my childhood home." It really didn't.

"Perhaps," Mulan said with little inflection, "we should look beneath the surface. Evil sometimes wears a false face."

Aurora couldn't help but think of Lancelot and Cora. Cora, who ripped out hearts and took people's faces. She shivered and brushed that memory from her mind as they walked a circuit of the most lived-in rooms one more time in an already familiar path. They looked for anything of use, and as they came back to the sitting room once more, Aurora was sure that the whole search was for naught. This room, complete with two throne-eque chairs and a collection of weapons on the wall, seemed like the most likely place for magic, but nothing seemed especially impressive or powerful. The thing that did catch Aurora's eye, though, was a tapestry.

The tapestry captured Maleficent in her fearsome dragon form as she terrorized innocents.

"Emma said she slew her—threw a sword into her dark heart, but," she shivered, "the darkness, the fire and brimstone. It frightens me."

There was a castle in one of the dragon's wings and a crypt in the other. Aurora shivered.

"Dragons are fearsome, but Maleficent is well and truly dead. She won't hurt you anymore. Even if she was still alive, I would not allow it."

Aurora turned her attention from the tapestry to Mulan. She was leaning against the mantle, her face serene and expressionless. It would be easy to think her emotionless, but Aurora could see the protectiveness swirling in the other woman's dark eyes and beneath that, pain. Mulan easily spoke of the former, but she would never mention the later. Mulan wouldn't stop, wouldn't sit, wouldn't rest, until Aurora did so, and perhaps not even then. The stubborn woman wouldn't even admit that she was hurting.

"I'm tired." It was not a lie, exactly, but Aurora was more concerned about getting Mulan to stop than she was of her own sleep. To illustrate her point, she sat heavily on one of the chairs and then sneezed at the poof of dust that came from the cushion. "Where is Seraph?"

Mulan raised a questioning brow and Aurora smiled a little sheepishly. "The unicorn."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	12. 03x12 - As Good As Dead

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 12_  
_"As Good As Dead"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: Amy-Tabby_  
_Illustrated By: Napfreak_  
_Edited By: NotEvilDear-Wicked_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: AsraiaySoph_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.**_

_Publication Date: 04/17/2015_

* * *

 

The scream—Charming's scream—cut into Snow like a barbed arrow, headed straight for her heart. Her own cry mirrored it in panic—every step she took seemed to take an eternity, even though she was through the opening and into the passage in a moment. She saw his back, muscle and craggy rock, the one arm that still moved well windmilling desperately. The other arm was curled into David's chest. His body, once so strong, was outlined with a demonic halo of red light as a pool of magma churned, weak and injured. He was mere inches from the ledge, still fighting to keep from falling to his death.

"Charming!" Snow cried, and she grabbed the back of his shirt. Emma snatched him by the good arm. Mother and daughter towed him back from the molten pit. Snow looked over him, checking every inch of him over—no new injuries. No new problems.

 _No_ ** _new_** _problems. Just plenty of ones that were already there,_ she thought, thoroughly disgusted to and with herself. The island, Gods damned Neverland, could not have her family. Would  _not_ have her family.

Charming fought to catch his breath in labored gulps and managed a grin as he looked at his family.

"I think we should try the other way."

"Definitely," Emma replied.

Snow glanced at Emma briefly, but she hadn't quite been able to stop checking Charming for any fresh wounds or signs of damage. It was just like old times, she thought bitterly. Snow cut her eyes at her sarcastic child, who sounded too much like Regina, and forced a smile. Neither of them managed to make their eyes as cheery and stalwart as their voices.

The three trudged back to the cave opening, and upon seeing them, Hook solemnly scratched an X into the side of the wall. Rock and steel hook rasped against one another, and the sound set Snow's teeth on edge. The five of them looked at one another, willing one of the party to lead into the next tunnel. The pause, the hesitation, and the wait, bothered Snow almost as much as the sound.

Emma sighed, almost too softly for others to notice, and stepped forward into the next tunnel. Snow would have been right behind her if she could have managed to drag David faster. She wondered, briefly, if he was getting heavier or if her arms were just getting tired. The strength and stamina of her bandit days seemed long gone, faded away and covered over by twenty-eight years of teaching school children. David slowly crept before her, and the passage grew narrow. Snow gulped back her claustrophobia and followed, peeping over her husband's shoulder to see what her golden-haired daughter was doing. Once again, a hellish red light bloomed in front of the group, lighting the passage as it opened up.

"What's going on?" Neal called from behind Snow.

"It looks like a hallway," Emma responded. Snow saw her slowly put weight onto one leg as Charming inched out behind her. Snow could feel Neal right behind her, practically breathing down her neck, as she tried to peer out from her stalwart and stony husband. Emma's face turned to the passage, one eyebrow cocked for what was going to inevitably be a quip.

"Looks like there's no giant boulders or forbidden tiki statues, but the jury's out on One Eyed Willie's fortune."

Snow narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, while Charming let out an audible "Huh?" Neal, however, seemed to be in on the joke and tilted his head back for a big laugh. The noise sounded too eager to be genuine.

"Oh, eighties," Neal mumbled and shook his head. He let out a fake sigh. Hook pushed past him with a roll of his kohl-lined eyes. Snow felt his frustration on a spiritual level.

She stepped around Charming the first chance she got in order to get a good look at the corridor they were in. The walls pulsed with veins of magma, and the hellish light made the floor shine as if it were slick with blood. Perhaps it had been, once upon a time. A regular pattern of what seemed like tiles led to the end of the passage, where the tiles became hard-hewn cave rock once more.

"Let's keep our eyes open for more of Pan's tricks," Snow began as she stepped forwards onto the tile. She eyed the walls cautiously in case they collapsed, and the hall became flooded with lava.

She heard the sharp  _hiss_ before she felt the jet of steam shoot up her left side, which in turn brought a shrill cry as she pushed her family to get them away from the geyser.

Her face burned, her neck sizzled, and her hand throbbed when she tried to clench it into a fist. It was painful, terrible, she could smell her own cooked flesh.

"Stupid secret lair volcano maze and its freaking-" Emma started grumbling loudly, until Hook stepped on another tile and got hit in the chest and neck with the same sizzling vapors that had just cooked her mother. The pirate winced and growled an obscenity under his breath. The Princess in Snow was offended by his language; the woman who had just been scalded heartily agreed.

"Oh come on!" Emma screamed in frustration. "Is the  _whole floor_ rigged?" Emma waved her arms in exasperation, before she slumped in on herself and sighed. "Of course it is. We're hiking through Mount Death Trap."

"Looks like it's just the light tiles we have to avoid," Charming offered. Snow looked again—true enough, some of the tiles were a duller, lighter shade of "Mount Death Trap," to quote her daughter.

Snow felt daring, but mostly just done, and decided to move forward. Snow toed a darker tile to her left before settling her weight onto it. No steam. She beamed a reassuring grin to the group that she didn't feel on the inside. They didn't know, or need to know, that Snow would be fine sitting down and not moving for a few hours, instead of finding out what was in the next chamber. Of course, she was Snow White. No point in letting her family know she had had it with this island. Or that she was no longer convinced it was even survivable.

* * *

After an excruciating ten minutes or so of hopping from one stone to the next, one tile to the next without triggering any light tiles, and utterly failing to come up with a good enough "steamed fish" joke to crack at Hook, Neal and Emma managed to get to the next part of the maze first. It was a great big vault with a ton of different passageways. Of course there were, Neal mused. Pan liked to make you think you had a choice, that you had control, even and especially when you didn't. Emma seemed stiff and ready to snap at any given moment. David was limping on, barely faster than a turtle. Her mom was almost worse, with a grin painted onto her face that she obviously didn't feel. It was like she was baring her teeth at the cave.

Neal tried to shake the goosebumps out of his shoulders, but mostly just made his arm itch and burn from the movement. He scratched idly at his bad shoulder with his good hand as the rest of the group trickled in, everyone looking in every direction at once to determine which was the least deadly option. Choose the form of your destructor. Because there were all deadly. Because  _of course_  there was a least deadly option. It would lead to the next trap: then the next, and the next, until they were all dead and Pan could giggle at them at the exit that they almost made it to. Or at least the exit that four out of five managed to get to. He wasn't a liar, and Pan had said one of them would die.

 _One in five odds aren't actually that bad_ , a little voice in Neal's head whispered.  _Let's vote Hook off the island,_ the voice continued. Neal grinned with dark, foul humor gleaming in his eyes. The only kind of humor that survived Neverland. Survive until he got some pixie dust, like last time, because dying might get him off of this island but he just plain old didn't feel like it. After all, sometimes death and pixie dust didn't work to escape this hellhole.

His shoulder hurt too much to keep scratching it as he wandered further into the cave. Lost boys would have helped make this cave. Building random puzzle mazes were a "fun way" to liven up island living 'round these parts. Especially when the boys made some unlucky victim run through them. Some were made specifically so they could hoot and holler as some little boy scrambled for his life. Anyone who survived them got some glory, sure, but mostly Pan liked watching the weakest of his little cult suffer for the amusement of the many. It kept them in line and in awe of him.

"So I guess we each pick a cave and hope for the best?" Emma offered. Neal twisted his neck around to look at her—didn't they just do that and almost barbeque her dad? He sighed. They didn't have much choice. They all knew it.

"Good a plan as any," Neal said, and walked into one of the caviest-looking caves. Then again, they all looked cavernous. This one was wider inside, which was a relief. He didn't have to pin his arms against himself—which reminded him too much about things best left forgotten. He tried rolling his shoulders again and almost managed to do it without hurting too badly. He groaned in self-pity and took another step, which wasn't his best decision. He tumbled, doing everything he could to not land on his bad arm, and skidded down a slope headfirst.

Once he slid to a stop, his hand brushed something smooth that jerked away from him. He looked over, and a coil of red reared up at him and spread its hoods. A two-headed Agrabah Viper. The air left his lungs in a slow breath, and he did not begin breathing again. Moving was bad, but he had to move his eyes, his head, and his neck, to look around himself. More snakes. Neal didn't know that much about snakes other than keep away from them, and that if you didn't fuck with them they wouldn't fuck with you. Also that if they were hissing, they thought you were fucking with them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	13. 03x13 - Tiger Lily Fields

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 13_  
_"Tiger Lily Fields"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: RebelByrdie_  
_Illustrated By: Dalliance-Amongst-the-Stars_  
_Edited By: NotEvilDear-Wicked and Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: AsraiaySoph_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.**_

_Publication Date: 06/05/2015_

* * *

 

The setting sun filtered through the jungle's canopy and tinted it green, her color. Tinkerbell might have found that ironic if she wasn't caught up in her own chaotic thoughts. Most of the thoughts centered around the woman she was trying to drag through the jungle. Her decision to knock her out first now seemed a little short-sighted. She carefully let Regina's dead weight slump to the ground, careful of her lolling head. The woman—the woman that she remembered all too vividly—was pale and still, her chest barely moving with each breath. Even now, after the pain and the isolation, Tinkerbell still found her beautiful.

"Should have let you fall." Tink said, sighing, while looking down at the unconscious woman. She knew even as she spoke the words, she did not mean them.

"A nice day for a hike, isn't it?"

Tink's eyes flashed up towards the voice to meet a green cloaked figure leaning against a tree. He was tall and lanky, a smirk visible beneath his cloak. He was playing with a dagger, flipping it into the air end-over-end, carelessly tossing and catching it. She could smell his over-ripe odor of smoke, sweat and old blood, and it made her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

She leveled a glare at Felix and hoped the frisson of fear that shot up her spine didn't show on her face. Felix was Pan's second-in-command and was just as violent and dangerous as his (eternally) young master. He was, though, slightly more predictable. Not that she trusted him, but evil that was known and obvious was always preferable to the limitless evil that festered in Pan's mind.

"Care to lend a hand, Felix?"

He looked at her and she imagined him cocking his pale brow under the cloak.

"You need help killing an unconscious woman?" He balanced the tip of dagger on his forefinger.

Tink's heart rate tripled, but she forced herself to stay calm, not to run.

"I'm not killing her."

Felix flipped the knife again and caught it by the blade. "His orders were clear. Get rid of her. He won't like that you're defying. Pan has a tricky temper." He played with his knife some more and then pushed his hood back to reveal his scarred face and a tangle of knotted sun-bleached, white blonde hair. His eyes were red-rimmed, cagey, and colored a flat, emotionless stormcloud gray with shadows of savagery painted in them. He towered over her, easily six feet tall, and he was a Lost Boy; he was ruthless, and Tink knew better than to toy with him, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"And your orders are always clear, keep a Tiger Lily in the fields. The way I see it, I'm doing both of us a favor."

If he was surprised, he didn't say anything. Neverland was a small island, and the few secrets it held were closely guarded, but most news—new arrivals, deaths, and Pan's decrees of "games"—traveled fast. Everything in Neverland had eyes and ears, and messages were whispered by the shadows themselves.

"Pan is aware of the fate of the last Tiger Lily. The shadow will bring another. It always does. So if we're exchanging favors..." His voice tapered off, but he finished his statement by raking his eyes up and down her body. She repressed a shiver. "You'll have to offer something else, something more," his smirk grew larger, "enticing."

She swallowed bitter and acidic bile at the very thought of touching him. He was young but oozed slime and filth. She had seen him fight, seen him kill, seen him crow out in victory while blood dripped from his sword. He, like so many innocents that arrived on Neverland, had become a monster. "Go soak your head in the volcano, Boy."

He didn't seem to take offence to her words, she had said much worse. He instead turned his attention to the unconscious Regina, and Tink felt the fear take over her spine again, locking it into place; she was scared stiff, afraid to move either closer to Regina to protect her or further away to give him what he wanted. She felt a bead of sweat, cold like a sliver of ice, slide from her hairline and down her temple and neck. Felix knelt down beside the Queen, and his smirk turned into a small but vile smile.

"I don't think we've ever had such a pretty woman on the island."

He pushed a lock of midnight dark hair out of Regina's face. His fingers brushed down Regina's cheek slowly, with intent beyond what Tink wanted to think about. Then his dirt and bloodstained fingers wandered lower and pulled the edges of her jerkin apart to reveal the paper thin white tunic that seemed to entice and tease what was underneath more than hide it.

"And you dosed her with..." he leaned closer and sniffed her skin. Tink wanted to lash out, to bat him away. "Lily pollen. That already? She's under the spell. Completely helpless. All the magic in all the realms won't help you if you're not awake to use it." His fingers tugged at the drawstrings of her shirt.

She slapped his hand away, unable to watch any more. A name, a name she hadn't allowed herself to think of in decades echoed in her mind. She pushed him away from Regina's prone and defenseless form. She pulled the leather jerkin back into place and glared at Felix.

"Have some respect," she snapped, "she's a queen." Always a queen, whether it be the Evil Queen or the Queen of Nothing. It was what Regina had been named for, born for, bred for, lived for, killed for. Regina was a queen, always. Once she had been Tinkerbell's Queen. She may hate her, curse her very existence, but Tink could not let Felix hurt her.

"There are no queens or kings here," Felix reminded her in a sing-song voice. "Only boys." He reached for Regina again.

"Don't touch her!" she screamed.

Felix raised a brow and held out his hand for a shake instead, knowing he'd won. "Then we have a deal?"

Damn him. Damn Neverland. Damn Regina and damn her own treachery. She couldn't speak the words, so she nodded. She nodded and blinked back tears as she did so.

Felix's smirk was positively lecherous. He pulled a necklace out of a hidden pocket of his cloak. It was beautiful, made of shining silver and gleaming gems. Sapphires, turquoise, aquamarines, emeralds, they shined together like a river in the sun. It was as gorgeous as it was dangerous; Tinkerbell had never seen it before, but knew it by reputation alone.

"That's it?"

Felix grinned like the fiend he was. "Yes."

Tink cocked her head to the side as she examined it. She hadn't exactly paid attention to every single tiny syllable of every single word that had been spouted to her about magic, but she knew enough to know that this necklace was powerful, dangerous, and frightening, even to her—a woman who had been a fairy.

"How did Pan come to possess something so powerful? It shouldn't even exist. It's against the very laws of—"

"There are no laws here." Felix interrupted her with something that was less of a sentence and more of a growl, spittle flying from his lips as he spoke. She flinched away from the sprayed words and he continued, unconcerned with her discomfort."You should know that by now. C'mon pick her up. We need to get her all the way to the fields tonight."

Tink bit her lip and wanted to protest, but her fate, just like Regina's, had been sealed.

"You take her feet."

Tinkerbell picked Regina up again, her weight more than cut in half with Felix's help. Somehow, Tink wished that she could have taken Regina by herself. She couldn't. She carried her, arms wrapped around Regina's shoulders. She was careful of her head and neck, and Felix carried her by the knees. They didn't speak, they just carried the doomed Queen west into the setting sun.

* * *

David watched, conflicted, as Hook and Neal slowly but surely pulled Emma away from the petite woman who called herself Tinkerbell. He had met many fairies, including the most powerful of them all, The Blue Fairy. He had never, though, seen a fairy with no wings or wand. He had never heard of Tinkerbell—well, before his Storybrooke memories, at least. The woman, a small slip of a thing whose head was barely level with his shoulders, rubbed her neck, apparently happy to be free.

"She's crazy!" Tinkerbell kept a distance between herself and Emma.

"You kidnapped Regina, but I'm the crazy one?" Emma's voice was still rough and it cracked as she shouted. She lunged forward again, sword still in hand, but Neal and Hook had stayed close and held her still. David couldn't say that he understood Emma's obsession with finding Regina, but he knew that it was something they needed to do. Perhaps less violently than Emma would like, though.

"I don't understand," Snow spoke, breaking the short but tense silence. "What are these fields?"

Hook, his one hand firmly on Emma's left shoulder, let out a huff of breath. "That is a tale best told sitting down, and with something to drink—something strong."

Neal, with his hand wrapped around Emma's right bicep, winced. "And I'm sort of down to one leg."

"And David could use a rest," Snow spoke for him, and as much as he wanted to protest, he knew she was right. Damn it all, she was right.

"Isn't your lovely home just around the bend, Miss Bell?" Hook seemed to know the fairy, or was it ex-fairy, well enough.

Tinkerbell looked at them, and he could only imagine what was going through her head at the sight of their motley crew. "And I suppose you're all just inviting yourselves over."

Emma, already antsy and bouncing her weight from foot to foot, said, "This is not the time for a Disney in the Afternoon Tea Party!"

David winced. Good ol' Walt had never imagined anything quite as wild as their lives.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	14. 03x14 - Trouble on the Homefront

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 14_  
_"Trouble on the Homefront"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: Hunnyfresh_  
_Illustrated By: Konako_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: QueenOfAllSwans_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_****_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._**  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.**_

_Publication Date: 07/11/2015_

* * *

 

Ruby's even breaths echoed rhythmically against the pavement as she kept a steady pace. Storybrooke was more or less a quiet town, you know, save for freak earthquakes or the forest reclaiming its ground. In the hours just before the sun rose to greet the day, Ruby was out enjoying the serenity, hoping the peace could clear her ever-spinning mind.  _Right foot. Two breaths in. Left foot. Two breaths out._  But this time as she ran, the air was different. Tasted crisper. Silence echoed between her breaths. No matter how hard she pushed or how long she ran, though, it couldn't ease the constant pang for freedom in her blood (aka the massive amount of adrenaline) so close to Wolf's Time.

She reveled in it.

It felt good, having control of her body once more. It was the one thing she could manage that had nothing to do with playing Sheriff and hoping the town wouldn't crumble while Emma or Snow were away. No, now was her time. This was her element. So she ran a little harder.

She made her way down the pier and headed toward the downtown core, still in awe of how abandoned it looked this early in the morning. No matter how many times she ran this trek, it was always like sprinting through a ghost town. No one was awake, the hour too early even for Granny to start serving coffee. The cracks along Main and the decimated buildings made it look like a war zone.

There had been a time where Ruby had thought herself a hero—a vigilante so to speak. Her cursed self may have been christened the Town Gossip, but her true form—a hybrid of Ruby and Red and the Wolf—was the self-proclaimed protector f this town and knew this it better than anyone, save perhaps Regina. The sights, sounds, smells—she could pick up all of them by the shift in the wind. The town was her orchestra: the leaves bristled and the twigs crunched, the waves lapped against the shore, and the odd wind chime greeted her 'hello'. They played their tunes like a soundtrack as she'd run through the town, making sure everyone was safe.

Dopey was still milling about the house he shared with his brothers, a ball of overworked nerves from yet another sleepless night. Even his cursed self had been an insomniac, though, so she couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like for him to have two beings inside his brain now. Kathryn was halfway through her morning yoga ritual—the scent of jasmine candles and ethereal music filtered out to Ruby on a light morning breeze. Ruby realized she must have pushed herself harder that usual this morning, as she usually only caught Kathryn when she was coming out of Warrior Three and moving into Downward Facing Dog.

Even though the town was more or less the same as it had been when the Charmings and Regina had left, Ruby couldn't shake the feeling she had failed as its protectress. Now that she had been slapped with the Sheriff badge and armed with an actual reason to deem herself a hero, she felt like she was already dropping the ball.

She pushed herself again.  _Right foot. Three breaths in. Left foot. Two breaths out._

She had no plan. Nothing substantial, anyway, other than 'don't let anyone kill each other until Emma comes back'. But even that was starting to slowly fall apart at the seams. God, what  _would_  Emma do in this situation? Probably punch someone in the face.  _If only_ , Ruby sighed.

As the sun broke through the trees, Ruby slowed her pace enough to cross the street before heading back towards the diner.  _Maybe Granny would have been a better choice as Sheriff_ , she thought.  _No one would dare piss her off with that crossbow._  Ruby grinned at that, suddenly thinking of the diner and the hot pot of freshly brewed coffee that would be waiting for her. A fog horn sounded in the distance as the fishermen made their way out, and she slowed her run to a jog. Suddenly, an unfamiliar scent hit her nose; she furrowed her brow.

This was. . . different. And make that two scents.

Her ears pricked up the sound of leather shoes slapping pavement accompanied by a deep voice, and she ducked quickly behind Game of Thorns. Nearby an engine stuttered to a stop, a car door opened and closed, and another set of loafers joined the first. This wasn't making sense. That car sounded a lot like Regina's.

"The Home Office won't be happy that Tamara and Owen left the job unfinished."

Ruby's eyes widened at the British lithe. What the hell was the Home Office? She had a feeling it wasn't an office supply store, and if Tamara and Owen were involved, it was probably really freaking bad. She moved behind a dumpster and peaked through the open slit of the lid to see a tall man with a lean build and glasses, carrying grocery bags from a super centre she had only heard of on TV. He walked past the mouth of the alley and called out to the man behind him.

"Quickly, Michael," he urged, as the second set of steps rapidly increased until Michael was in view.

He was shorter—comparable to the dwarves if Ruby was honest—and nearly stoic, as he too carried a bag of groceries and a peculiar carpet purse Mary Poppins would have been proud of.

"You don't know what kind of magic still lurks here," the taller man said.

Ruby's ears perked up and her eyebrows rose in question. If these two were from out of town—and Ruby was certain she knew everyone in town—what did  _they_  know about magic?

"And Wendy, John?" Michael asked.

"We'll get her out of Neverland," John promised. "But we must hurry."

That could not have been a coincidence that Snow and the others were off to Neverland, and suddenly two strangers come waltzing into town talking about it. After all, there was no such thing as coincidence in Storybrooke. Quietly, she tip toed from behind the dumpster and peaked her head out in time to see them turn away from Main and into the residentials. She knew a shortcut that would get her behind a catwalk connected to the house lots and caught up with this John and Michael. Her heart hammered in her chest and ducked back into the alley and snuck out through back parking lots to get to the entrance of the catwalk. For a moment, the only sound she could hear was the hollow  _ting-ting_  of Mrs. Ginger's wind chimes blowing around softly. She blew air through her nose, angry that she had lost them. A lead in a possible case, and Ruby had lost them. She lowered her head. She should have followed their every step and—

Just then, her nose twitched as John and Michael approached and passed the catwalk, unaware of her presence at the other end. They continued on, striding determinedly down the street, and Ruby had intended to pursue, but— this was  _Mifflin_. Not only was it was a dead end, but this was Regina's street. She relegated herself to the hedges, listening to their loafers on the sidewalk and following their progress, until their rhythm suddenly paused. A gate creaked open. Ruby peaked out from the side of the hedge, inching out of the catwalk, only to see that the strangers were heading into the unlikeliest of places. Confusion and dread filled her as she watched them stroll without pause into 108.

* * *

It could have been just another day at Granny's. Enjoying some breakfast. Catching up on the news. Having a cup of joe laced from his good ol' personal stash. But Leroy hadn't had a regular day since his birth. Why would today be any different? If he wasn't destined to die digging out diamonds for fairies in one life, he was drinking his sorrows as a janitor and nursing hangovers that never quite went away in another. And whatever life he was living, he was always left with the cruel reminder that he and Nova would never work out. She was a fairy back in the Enchanted Forest, and here she was a nun. Talk about forbidden. Plus there was her sudden need to spend more time than ever at the nut hatch, and Grumpy was feeling every inch of his moniker. He took a sip of brew and winced. It definitely needed more juice.

"Bee!"

He started at the excited cry of the toddler, glancing from the corner of his eye at the shock of blonde curls so similar to her mother's. Alexandra grinned, paper and crayons on the table in front of her as she occupied a booth not far from his perch. Her toys were forgotten at her excitement and for a moment, and Grumpy looked around to find Ruby—certain that she was present if the kid was that happy. He followed the child's gaze over to the TV, however, where the waitress-turned-sheriff was making a statement from the Sheriff's Office on the morning news. He sighed and downed half his cup of coffee. That was another can of worms he didn't want to open. Ruby had asked him to be her deputy. Anyone else would have jumped on the chance to actually do some real crime fighting work, and working with Ruby? He wasn't blind, even if his heart belonged to another. But he had his brothers to think about. They wanted to be together, all of them, just like the good ol' days. Eating together, living together, mining together. Heigh-ho. But even in the good ol' days he hadn't always been like every run of the mill dwarf. His love for Nova set him apart. He internally groaned, back to square one, and finished off his coffee, hissing at the burn in the back of his throat both from the temperature and the whiskey he put in it.

Pongo's groaning interrupted his mini pity party when the Dalmatian at Archie's feet repositioned himself further under the table. Grumpy knew it was the Dalmatian because it was the only dog Granny allowed into the diner, save for herself and her grandkid of course. Archie, sitting at a nearby table with an iPad in front of him and a stack of neatly organized file folders across, suddenly focused on the television behind Grumpy's head.

He followed his gaze to the old CRT display in time to see the screen split; Belle in the Mayor's office and Hart Archer, his arm encased in plaster from the aftermath of the trigger, still in Good Morning Storybrooke's studio. Well this should be interesting. He reached over the counter and dug up the remote Granny always left by the register.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	15. 03x15 - Shadow Games

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 15_  
_"Shadow Games"_

 _Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: Korderoo_  
_Illustrated By: Napfreak_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

 _Advisors and Consultants_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
_Continuity and Consistency: QueenOfAllSwans_  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

 **This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations.  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.**

_Publication Date: 09/18/2015_

* * *

 

More madness than man now, Rumpelstiltskin floundered about the island. In his moments of clarity, he was filled with rage. Rage for Neverland and the boy who was one with it. Rage for every enemy who had torn his family apart. Rage for his own cowardice.

He chased after shadows that whispered in Belle's throaty tongue, but any comfort she offered was brief and illusory. Catching a brief glimpse of blue behind a copse of trees ahead, he transported himself in hope that he might finally reach his love. But instead, she'd looked over her shoulder with a malicious grin and fingered Lacey's necklace around her slender throat, and disappeared once more.

As he sank to his knees, Rumpelstiltskin looked more like the deserter who betrayed his comrades in arms than the Dark One. His skin was pale and clammy. His lips were cracked from thirst. His eyes shone with madness from within deep sunken hollows.

The island – the boy – had pushed him to the brink of defeat.

"It wasn't this bad before," he choked out the words though there was no one to hear them. "It wasn't this bad. Befo-"

His voice faded as he jerked around wildly, his eyes darting to the trees around him like frightened prey.

Seeing nothing, he sank fully onto the ground, his hands desperately holding his head as he shut his eyes tight and trembled.

* * *

_The light of the bonfire cast shadows of the boys who danced around it onto the trees surrounding them. Their clothes showed the wear of a life spent in the jungle – tatty, ill-fitting, and filthy._

_Standing still in the middle were two boys whose clothing showed them to be new arrivals. A gangly boy in a white dressing gown with round glasses and a freshly cut lip held the hand of a smaller boy in footie pajamas clutching a stuffed bear in his pudgy fist._

_The Lost Boys laughed and crowed as they held aloft their weapons, never missing a chance to poke the new boys as they passed in their wild dance._

_"Little Mama's Boys! Beggin' to go home, am I right?" A slender boy with a faded baseball jersey and a Brooklyn accent jabbed the older boy with his spear._

_"They do not deserve to be called Lost Boys!" His younger Latino companion, eager to prove his worth, drew blood as his spear poked the older boy's shoulder._

_"Take the tiny one to The Fields! Pan needs no babies." A slender Chinese boy knocked the teddy bear from the younger boy's hand with a sneer._

_The boy in the jersey circled back around and leaned in close to the young boy as he hurriedly scooped up his toy. "He may enjoy The Fields, but he'll never survive to be a Lost Boy."_

_The small boy burst into tears. His brother leaned down, careful to keep his eyes on the boys who had stopped circling and stood with their spears menacingly pointed at his brother. "It's all right, Michael. It's going to be alright."_

_An older boy, much bigger than either of the pajama-clad brothers stepped forward and glared down his nose at John before speaking in a thick Jamaican accent._

_"You will shut him up or I will shut him up for you."_

_When the small boy's cries only increased, the bulky teen drew a sword from his belt and put the tip to Michael's throat. The other boys were silent now, riveted to see what would happen. The large boy leaned down and brushed back his braided hair before growling, "You make one more sound and I will cut you."_

_His sword traced a path down the front of Michael's pajamas, leaving a red line across the boy's quivering chest as he bit his lip and held his sobs._

_"One. More. Sound." He held eye contact with Michael for a long moment._

_"Please! We just want our sister," John spoke up to deflect attention from his brother._

_The older boy rose slowly to his full height, moving directly in front of John and staring down at him once more._

_"Pan has your sister and he left you to us until you're useful."_

_"But Wendy-"_

_Before John could finish his sentence, the back of the older boy's hand had struck his face hard enough to cause his glasses to fly across the circle as his head snapped to the side. One of the younger boys whooped with glee and fetched John's glasses to return them on the tip of a spear, one lens hopelessly cracked._

_"Well I just hate to break up this love-fest-"_

_The boys spun around at the sound of the amused, eerily high-pitched voice. Rumpelstiltskin leaned against a tree just at the border of the clearing. His scaly gold skin sparkled in the firelight as he smirked at them. With a giddy little hop he strode among the dumbfounded boys, chucking John on the chin and ruffling Michael's hair with little concern for the spears now pointed at him._

_"I'm looking for a boy." He looked around and giggled maniacally before giving a wave of his hand. "A very particular boy. My son."_

_The boy in the baseball jersey recovered fastest, "Ain't no sons in Neverland. Only Lost Boys."_

_Rumpelstiltskin's head snapped around faster than a snake could strike, his eyes narrowed dangerously. With a mere gesture of his hand, five or six of the spears that had been resting harmlessly at the outside of the circle rose up and stilled for one brief moment in the air before piercing the boy at once from all directions spraying the boys around him with his blood. His eyes remained wide even as his body slumped to the ground, dead._

_Rumpelstiltskin was momentarily motionless. His face maintained a grin although a fierce pain burned through his body. When the pain receded, he spoke, "Now, let's try this again, shall we? My son. His name is Baelfire."_

_A voice from above floated down, "There is no Baelfire in this camp."_

_The boys bowed their heads and put a fist to their chests with respect as Rumpelstiltskin turned his face up to view a teenage boy in green floating down from the night sky. "And you do not belong on my island."_

_As soon as the boy landed, hands on his hips, Rumpelstiltskin approached, his eyebrows high. This boy was unaffected by his magic – a new experience and unsettling. Still, the boy's mind could be read._

_Rumpelstiltskin drew himself up and said, "Either you give me my boy or I will rip your precious tree limb from limb," Pan's face remained impassive but his nostrils slightly flared before Rumpelstiltskin pressed on with giddy confidence, "And then I shall turn this entire island into one very large bonfire. I'm sure you and your Boy Scout troop will enjoy that."_

_He finished on another unsettling giggle._

_Pan scowled at him for long moments before lifting an eyebrow and curling up one corner of his lips as he looked behind Rumpelstiltskin._

_When Rumpelstiltskin looked around, he saw that the shadows appeared to have moved directly behind him. He quickly turned back to Pan but his view ahead was equally obscured by the shadows. He was surrounded._

_Pan's voice carried through the shadows, playful even in his threat, "You will leave this island and if you ever return I will make sure you suffer."_

_Rumpelstiltskin scoffed, "With your shadows and lies? Don't make me laugh, boy."_

_Pan's hand reached through the shadows and grabbed Rumpelstiltskin by the throat before he could even draw breath. His face was twisted with rage._

_"Pan never lies!"_

_"So my son is not among your Lost Boys?"_

_Holding Rumpelstiltskin's throat still, Pan twisted him around to get a better view of the boys standing stock still in front of the flames before pushing him toward them roughly._

_"Do you see him? These are all my Lost Boys – even my newest recruits."_

_John and Michael stared wide-eyed at Rumpelstiltskin and Pan. Rumpelstiltskin considered them for a moment before turning his gaze back to Pan. Calmly, he said, "Peter Pan never lies and The Dark One never breaks a deal. So, let's make one."_

_The shadows that had lingered around him were dispersed with another wave of his arms._

_"I'll stay away from your little island of horrors as long as my blood – my Baelfire – is safe from you."_

_A broad grin spread across Pan's face as he extended his hand. "Deal."_

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin choked and gasped as he thrashed on the ground. Belle knelt beside him to brush the sweat-soaked hair from his brow.

"Henry. My blood. He broke the deal."

His eyes wide, Rumple shot up into a sitting position.

"Baelfire. Henry. My Bae. My blood. My Bae's boy."

Grasping his hand, Belle hushed him, "Shh. It's ok, Rumple. It's going to be ok."

As the sun began to rise, Belle faded into the mist once more and Rumpelstiltskin remained, sweaty and fevered on the forest floor, his voice breaking as he cried his son's name over and over.

"Baelfire!"

* * *

Charming decided that the theme of today was 'awkward silence'. He and Neal had shared uncomfortable silence for hours before the rest of their party returned – seemingly in an awkward silence all their own.

He had been relieved to see his wife and daughter and even to see that they had managed to rescue Regina. He could not help but wonder about what had happened to her in The Fields, especially when he saw her long braided hair and unusual clothing, but he held his silence as Emma and Tink practically carried her up the ladder and laid her in a hammock. Regina seemed worryingly docile and let them lead her as they would.

Now, hours later, she seemed to have recovered some of her – for the sake of the affection his wife and daughter bore the Evil Queen, he settled on the diplomatic "spirit".

"Hold still you over-grown juvenile delinquent unless you want me to fuse your shoulder together permanently," she growled as she worked to magically heal Neal. Based on the faces he was making, Charming assumed that her methods, while perhaps effective, did little to soothe the pain. He wondered whether that was borne of necessity or spite. Perhaps a bit of both. He had never seen her act in a gentle, soothing manner with anyone other than Henry.

She huffed dramatically as she shook her head, "I'm not a trained healer, and even magical healing is very complicated."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	16. 03x16 - The Lost Kingdom

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_   
_presents_   
_Virtual Season 3_   
_Episode 16_   
_"The Lost Kingdom"_

_Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_   
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_   
_Written By: HighHeelsAndChocolate_   
_Guest Illustrator: Fox_   
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

_Advisors and Consultants_   
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_   
_Continuity and Consistency: Asaraiyah_   
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

_**This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations.  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

__**Please Note: This episode is still actively being edited this weekend, so please keep that in mind. This message will disappear when the edits have been completed.** _ _

Publication Date: 10/23/2015

* * *

 

Aurora awoke with a gasp so loud that it rang in her ears for a full three seconds after she had bolted upright on her bedroll. Her panicky heart was pounding in her chest like a thing possessed as she tried to get her breathing back under control. Sliding her hand into her loose linen nightshirt, she felt it thud heavily against her fingertips.

_A door burst open and a blast of heat. Fireballs. A candle. A malicious spell. There had been a heart in a box and an overwhelming feeling of guilt. And Cora, terrifying Cora, had been lying on the ground while her companion (her daughter?) had held her cradled in her trembling arms._

The nightmare had been horrifying to say the least, and she wasn't even sure it was her own.

Memories of Snow White tramping through the forest with them swam to the front of her mind. She had oft spoken of Cora's daughter, the Evil Queen that Regina had become; how she had forced Snow into hiding for years after she'd escaped the castle she'd once called home. Regina was supposed to be a terrible woman, capable of murder and terror unimaginable to most, and having met Cora herself, the princess could only assume how easy it would have been for the apple to not fall far from the tree. And yet…

Aurora's heart had begun to slow beneath her fingertips, the calming chill of the morning beginning to seep into her waking bones.

Regina had looked so forlorn. So utterly heartbroken. So unexpectedly helpless as she'd held her dying mother in her arms. Aurora wasn't sure how she knew, but she was positive that Snow White had been the one to kill Cora.

Aurora shivered. She should have felt relieved that such an evil woman had departed from the world but… the look on Queen Regina's face had just made her so very, very sad.

The princess let her head fall into her hands and rubbed dully at her temples. She wished the night visions would stop. She had her own demons to deal with.  _Like Maleficent._  She didn't need Snow White's too.

"Are you okay?"

Aurora's gaze wrenched up to the warrior woman crouched at her side. Mulan was dressed only in the soft, thin pants she wore to sleep and her breast wraps, and her skin was glistening with a fine layer of sweat. Aurora realized that she must have already started her morning tai chi routine.

She watched as a single droplet of moisture rolled down Mulan's temple to cling to the end of her chin.

"I'm fine," Aurora croaked. "Just dreams."

Mulan's hand came to rest gently on her back in concern. She didn't look like she was buying it.

So Aurora plastered on a smile she didn't feel in the slightest and pushed the tangling hair out of her face. And since when had her heartbeat started fluttering again?

"Go back to your practice. I'll get breakfast ready."

Mulan opened her mouth like she was about to protest but Aurora shushed her worry away with the back of her hand. "Really, I'm fine," she insisted.

The warrior raised an unbelieving brow at her and Aurora tried to put more oomph into her weary smile as she hastily changed subjects. "No matter how much cinnamon you put on it, you always still scorch the porridge."

It was a poor excuse at best and Mulan didn't seem too pleased about the brush off, but nonetheless, the woman did as the princess commanded and returned to her exercises.

Aurora quickly built the morning fire (with the wood that Mulan had already gathered), started their breakfast (with the water that Mulan had already fetched), and began to stir idly at the porridge while Mulan's katas resumed.

Aurora had never seen anything quite like them: Mulan was the epitome of strength and grace. She was fascinated by the way she could see the warrior's hardened muscles stretch and tighten underneath her supple skin every time she leaned into a pose. She could hold each position for what seemed to be an eternity and Aurora thought that her body was beautiful. It sort of reminded her of a treasure map; the various scars that rose along her flesh in odd places. She wondered about each of them in turn, each a private story she yearned to discover… like the one branded along Mulan's side that dipped into the valley of her hipbone.

The princess wondered what it would feel like to trace its outline with her finger. Was it smooth like the rest of her seemed to be or was it jagged to the touch? Where did she get it? When did she get it? How did she get it? And how far down did it extend exactly?

Aurora realized that she hadn't stirred the porridge for quite some time and it was starting to solidify.

She started mixing again and soon enough, after Mulan had rinsed her body in the small nearby creek and fully toweled off the excess moisture, the warrior joined the princess at the fire to eat.

This had become their routine: every day for the past two weeks had started the same. The pair of them would sit and eat in the quiet of their own thoughts as the sun crested over the tops of the trees. Mulan would pour over the tattered map that they'd constructed themselves, using bits of old charts of the Enchanted Forest and its neighboring kingdoms cobbled together with the stories that Aurora could remember, and Aurora would methodically braid her hair back up into her godmothers' design while she waited for Mulan to figure out where in the forest they actually were.

"We passed a new bandit marking last night," Mulan stated blandly to the map in her hands. She marked the spot with a chunk of charcoal from their fire.

Aurora groaned exasperatedly from across the pit, and when Mulan raised her eyes in question, Aurora stuck out her lower lip to gain sympathy.

Mulan sighed. "Better bandits than ogres."

"Yes, well, they smell about the same," Aurora grumbled back.

And to Aurora's surprise, she actually caught Mulan smirking at her joke.

She'd never thought of herself as particularly funny before, but Mulan had this lightning smile that she ever so longed to see, and it was beginning to make her say things that she usually kept to herself. The coveted smile was small and fast and deadly, and it would flash across the warrior's face so quickly that, if you weren't specifically looking for it, you'd miss its light entirely.

But Aurora was looking for it, and upon spotting it, she felt her own smile broaden in equal measure; genuine for the first time all morning.

She'd have to be obstinate more often if this was the result.

Aurora packed up their camp onto Seraph's back as Mulan went about saddling their horses. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Mulan put on her armor piece by piece with fluid precision before she went to strap her sword to the side of Khan's saddle. That way she would be able to draw it easily without dismounting. She also strapped a small dagger, Aurora's dagger now that Mulan refused to let her give it back, to Sampson's saddle right under the gullet in case of emergency. Not that Aurora was very adept at handling the knife in any way, shape or form… but still. Having it near was a little comforting.

Aurora had enviously watched Mulan practice on many a morning with her various blades and weaponry and she ached to know how Mulan had learned to be so heroic, to be the fearsome warrior that she was today. But the woman could only field so many questions at a time and Aurora worried that she would fast become a nuisance if she gave in to her nosy desires.

Finally mounted on their horses, Aurora cast a glance behind her to the little black unicorn munching in the grass. He looked adorable loaded up with their tent and extra supplies. "Come along, Seraph," she called. "Let's go."

* * *

he pair of them always rode side by side down the twisting path through the forest, no matter how sprawling or close the trail became. Mulan said that it was safer that way.

However, Sampson was unused to the monotony of the never-ending trees and had taken a liking to nuzzling at Khan's withers whenever he was bored. He'd snuffle at the dirt around his fellow's hooves and periodically bump at his flank to try and gain a reaction. Playfully, of course. But Khan, a stoic war horse like his master, never looked very amused.

Aurora strongly empathized with Sampson's plight.

She was trying to be helpful. Really, she was. Mulan was always on the lookout for oncoming trouble on the road, constantly vigilant in her search for bandits or ogres or worse, and Aurora didn't want her to feel like she was the only one contributing to the quest. She wanted to be of assistance too.

And so slowly, oh so slowly over time, Mulan had begun teaching Aurora about the woods and how to survive them.

Apparently, tracking was important. Mulan was always staring at things that Aurora deemed innocuous and on one especially boring afternoon, she had finally broken down and asked the warrior what on earth she was looking at.

It had turned out that Mulan had literally been gawking at the dirt.

But now Aurora knew to pay attention to things like that. Mulan had explained that these were the easiest places to find tracks and anticipate what kind of danger might lie ahead. Boot prints, paw prints and hoof prints alike where much simpler to spot when found in soil like mud, or snow, or wet sand. And in a forest like this one there was plenty of that to go around and so she'd gotten plenty of practice.

Aurora looked down at the dirt beneath Sampson's feet. He huffed and turned a baleful eye back in her direction. She shared his lack of enthusiasm and tried to think of another way to pass the time.

She had also learned that the sun was vital to following a trail; that to have the best chance at identifying the owner of the track, she had to view it between herself and the sun so that the shadow her body created would allow her to see the print better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing to this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	17. 03x17 - As You Were

The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series  
presents  
Virtual Season 3  
Episode 17  
"As You Were"

Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon  
Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon  
Written By: SwanQueenGranger  
Illustrator: TheCecilz  
Edited By: Silverbluemoon

Advisors and Consultants  
Characterization: Rushemiiaah  
Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic

 **This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations.  
** **It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.**

**Please Note: This episode is still actively being edited, so please keep that in mind. This message will disappear when the edits have been completed.**

Publication Date: 11/22/2015

* * *

Morning came bright and way too early to the shittiest secret clubhouse ever.

Emma sighed and followed the sun as it leaked through the tree and began possessively creeping up her boots as she sat in the rough doorway. Green eyes gazed across the rickety rowboat that served as some sort of balcony and she scowled.

Another day in Neverland.

Another day without Henry.

She hadn't slept much last night, not with her thoughts racing about what had already happened and what was potentially to come. Not with what could be happening to her son.

Regina has finally stopped thrashing in her hammock a few hours ago. Emma had watched her with a quiet understanding. Nightmares of their son's fate had plagued her all night.

She was keenly aware of that because she had refused to sleep, instead watching as Regina cried out Henry's name and reached for him multiple times when she had finally been too tired to fight rest. Neverland was taking its toll on all of them and there was only so long Regina could pretend that the magic she was forced to do wasn't draining her quickly.

A deep sigh left Emma's chest at the thought and she sank further against the rough doorway. She had never felt more helpless in her life.

Her parents were curled up together in the far corner as they had been all night. David was propped against the wooden wall, seated as best he could with Snow against him. Only the prince's face was flesh now. Snow stayed by his side, inconsolable, but bravely smiling whenever his blue eyes darted to her.

Regina had insisted on pumping as much magic as she could into him to stave off the worst. One look from her tense eyes had told Emma all she needed to know.

It wasn't going to help much.

It was only the fairy who seemed to possess the ability to sleep unfettered through the night or at least lay quiet and still, which Emma admitted was probably a learned skill from so long on this godforsaken island.

Emma pushed the immediate flare of annoyance from her mind and rolled her neck to work out the knots. She hated to admit it, but the fairy seemed helpful.

That didn't mean that she had to like her, however and she damn sure wasn't going to trust her.

Hook and Neal had been gone for days it seemed and all they had to do was wait for the two of them to return with a vital ingredient to hopefully save her father. Another sigh pushed itself from her lips. Why had they agreed on letting those two go? It was, in retrospect, a freaking awful idea.

Her father's survival depended on a couple of ridiculously old (thinking of it made her head hurt) thieves who had always chosen themselves first and foremost over everyone else.

She and Regina should have gone.

Honestly, she was starting to think that she and Regina should have gone off by themselves in the beginning. No fairies, no baby–daddies, no fields of golden hell and no death traps. Just her and Regina and Henry. They seemed to work best that way, anyway.

Her scattered thoughts were interrupted by a low gravelly voice over her shoulder.

"I can't believe I'm saying this about you, but you're thinking too hard."

Emma felt the corner of her lip twinge with what felt like the stirrings of the first smile she could remember in ages. Leave it to Regina to bring the comfort of the known to this hell hole.

"Good morning to you too, Your Majesty."

She could hear the hammock groaning as the Queen slipped out of it; the soft footfalls as she made her way closer.

"Here."

Emma turned and glanced at the outstretched mango in Regina's hand before taking it without question. They'd need to keep their strength up even laying in wait. Who knows what could be lurking around the corner.

Regina nudged her right thigh with a bare foot and Emma silently slid a little further against the door to allow her to sit beside her in the open doorway. Silence descended upon them as their legs stretched out into the rowboat beneath them.

Emma turned the mango over in her hands mindlessly as Regina settled, her left shoulder brushing against Emma's right one. It wasn't a comfortable fit in the tiny doorway, and yet it stilled Emma's skirting thoughts quickly.

"Eat."

The brunette scanned the horizon around them as she said it and Emma felt another sigh bubbling into her chest.

Her eyes trailed across the other direction of the forest below them.

"The room service here sucks."

"Neverland sucks."

Emma's eyes halted their trek across the landscape and swiveled back towards the brunette. She knew Neverland was playing tricks on her, but there was no way that had happened.

"I'm sorry, did you just say that?"

Regina never turned. One shoulder lifted in a silent shrug before she brought the ripe apple she'D taken for herself to her lips, "Crude but true."

Emma watched as she bit into the fruit and wondered yet again how many times Henry had seen this side of his mother.

The thought brought a small warmth to her chest and she smiled. One hand lifted the mango to her lips to hide the gesture as she turned back towards the horizon. "Madam Mayor, you shock me with your language. Do you kiss our son with that mouth?"

Regina huffed low in her chest and lifted one finger in pause as she swallowed her food.

"Your son was the one who taught me that word. He went through a potty–mouth stage. I blame Nickelodeon."

"I see, so when he does something bad he's my son."

The statement caused an ache to spread through her chest and she was reminded quickly of the fighting they had endured before. A tireless back and forth over their son. She was determined to never allow that to happen again.

"I'm playing the odds."

Emma turned as much as she could at that, surprise etched on her face. "Wait, you let Henry watch that crap?"

One delicate shoulder raised again as Regina returned her gaze with a glint of hurt in her eyes.

"He likes cartoons and I'm not the ogre he made me out to be." Silence reigned for a moment as the brunette turned her gaze back to the horizon. When she spoke, her voice was lower, sadder than before. "We had fun."

Another pang tore through Emma's chest at the sound and she shook her head, determine to quickly let the Queen know what she had meant.

"No I mean, seriously. Everything post 2000 on Nick is crap. I can't believe you let my kid think that is entertainment."

She could hear the lilting smile pulling in Regina's voice when she spoke. "I suppose he should have grown up on a steady diet of 1983?"

Emma scrunched her nose in mock disgust at the thought. "Ew, no. He'd be rocking the 90's with me."

A chuckle slipped past Regina's lips at that and she turned to watch Emma bite down on the mango. "And what am I doing while you and he are watching all these mind-rotting 90's shows?"

Emma cringed at the fruit before swallowing. "Making pancakes hopefully."

She smiled slightly when she was rewarded with another chuckle from the woman at her side.

"Besides, I have all the good stuff on DVD. So when we get back, we can have Saturday Morning the way it's supposed to be. How big is your TV anyway?"

Regina raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the thought, "Size hardly matters."

Emma's gaze deadpanned on the woman as she took another bite of her apple.

"Really?"

Her gaze drifted to Regina's throat as it bobbed up and down from swallowing.

"The largest is downstairs. I suppose I could move the pool and foosball tables so we can pull back the…"

"I'm sorry, the what now?"

Brown eyes turned to meet disbelieving green.

"What?"

Emma laughed incredulously for a moment as she leaned back. "I have been to your mansion and know damn well that there isn't anything like that in your fancy–ass place."

Regina rolled her eyes momentarily and shook her head. "The game room is in the basement, Miss Swan."

Emma almost laughed at the way she could hear Regina rolling her eyes. As if, duh, of course the massive game room would be concealed in the basement. It probably looked like Dave and Buster's down there knowing Regina.

"Oh, we are so having a party down there when we get home. Henry is gonna get schooled in real cartoons and then I'm gonna kick your ass at pool." Emma brought one finger up in emphasis.

Regina raised one lone eyebrow once more before bringing the apple back to her lips. "You can try."

This time Emma couldn't fight the grin that overtook her face. Regina's eyes sparkled mischievously for a moment as she turned back towards the landscape.

"Good morning!"

Snow's voice rang out through the tree house louder than Emma thought necessary. She supposed her faux cheer needed to be spread to them all in order to give a sense of security to David.

As green eyes turned back towards her smiling mother, she glimpsed a fleeting look of something else in her eyes.

* * *

Most of the visions were of the past, of that he was sure.

None had been of the future.

He knew when a vision was of future events. He knew its taste and smell.

He could see the fog round its edges; still malleable and changeable.

The future could be modified and directed. It wasn't set in stone like the crystal clear visions of the past. He liked the future as much as he loathed the past.

No, this was not the future. This was the present.

It felt fresh to his senses and the smell of mango and sap was almost overwhelming.

It smelled like Neverland.

Flashes filtered before his eyes, disjointed and staticy like a far away voice fading in and out. Voices came through clearly now and then and the tone is always decipherable, but the words and context are lost to him like a TV signal when the rabbit ears are out of alignment.

He saw the Queen and the Savior talking.

The Charmings waking up.

* * *

_**. . . Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by following/favoriting this story here on ff.n (or subscribing on ao3), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.** _


	18. 03x18 - Lone Wolf

 

 _**The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series** _  
_**presents** _  
_**Virtual Season 3** _  
_**Episode 18** _  
_**"Lone Wolf"** _

_**Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon** _  
_**Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon** _  
_**Written By: Korderoo** _  
_**Illustrators: TheCecilz, ArtByJoana, and Fox** _  
_**Edited By: Silverbluemoon** _

_**Advisors and Consultants** _  
_**Characterization: Rushemiiaah** _  
_**Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic** _

_**This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations.** _  
_**It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_**Publication Date: Christmas Day, 2015** _

* * *

"In the criminal justice system, magical crimes are considered especially heinous. In Storybrooke, the men and women who investigate these crimes are known as the Sheriffs Charming. These are their stories. BUNG BUNG."

Ruby sighed as she lowered the front legs of her chair back to the ground and took in the pile of paperwork in front of her. She had imagined police work would be exciting - catching criminals and busting heads like her favorite TV detectives. It seemed like the only excitement around Storybrooke came in the form of amnesia-inducing purple clouds, magic-wielding villains, and pitchfork-happy mobs.

She cocked her head. Put that way, it did actually sound fairly exciting. And she did appreciate the opportunity to protect the people she cared about. Recently she felt as though she had found her place in the community - the protector of her pack.

"They do say the pen is mightier…" she sighed heavily as she picked up the ballpoint and worked her way through the pile of papers, each requiring her signature.

She arched her back as she stood and tossed the pen onto the desk. Feeling the need for fresh air, she opened the window wide and breathed in the cool air. While the sun had thawed the frosty morning the afternoon air was still chilly and brisk. She thought enviously of her deputy out in the field while she was stuck behind a desk. Leroy was on crossing-guard duty.

There had been some trepidation when she had appointed him to the post, but all things considered, Ruby could not dismiss the comfort of knowing her long-time comrade in arms was on patrol. While his disposition left much to be desired, there could be no doubting his loyalty.

Though three decades had past since they had stood in battle together, Ruby's memory of it was crystal clear. The taste of thick, hot blood on her tongue. The sight and smell of a field of fallen warriors, claw marks and bites having rent their flesh.

Ruby's shiver had little to do with the damp air. She disliked looking back on those times. She knew for a fact that Snow actively avoided any thought of them. Despite her own good memories of their friendship, Ruby could not blame her. Wartime was difficult and traumatic for many. For Ruby, though, it was the gaps between good times and bad that were the most painful to recall.

* * *

**_ The Enchanted Forest, before the Dark Curse _ **

_As Red ducked into the Inn, she let down her hood and evaluated the crowd. The place was small but it had been familiar to her since she was a child - long before she had learned to fear the moon. Its location at the crossroads meant that it was constantly occupied, although the owners had changed three or four times since she and Granny had first stayed there._

_Hushed conversation followed her as she made her way to a table against the wall and sat. Her cloak had once provided her the protection she needed to keep her secrets hidden. Now it identified her as Princess Snow's Wolf. The moniker was not one she appreciated, but truth was, her loyalty to Snow was as fierce as her moontime growl._

_The crowd this evening was mixed - families clustered around tables while travelers gambled or bartered in dark corners. Prostitutes wove through the crowd of men at the bar, primarily occupied by a group of soldiers._

_In her years of friendship with Snow, Red had observed that royals fought for power and nobles for influence. Merchants profited by backing victors in wartime. Knights sacrificed profits and power in favor of honor._

_The battles soldiers fought, on the other hand, were decided by others. They themselves sought only to provide food and safety to their families. As Inns were oft a place to obtain both food and safety, it was the soldier's' code that Inns should be neutral space even in the midst of bitter war. Of course the odd bar fight would occur on occasion, but they were typically petty and easily resolved._

_Despite this, Red eyed the crowd warily as she ordered ale and a meat pie - her back to the wall and her eyes on the door. As Princess Snow's Wolf, she was sure to be a target of the Evil Queen and a nearly irresistable ransom for any of the poor farmers and vagrants that frequented the pubs._

_It was the soldiers that made her the most uneasy. They wore the crest of the Evil Queen herself. Whether she could thank their level of inebriation or the heady intoxication of the ladies of the night, she could not say, but they did not seem to have noticed her. She watched them intensely, her head lowered._

_So focused was she that she almost didn't see the real threat when it arose in the form of a farmer clutching a worn-out hunting knife in a trembling hand. As she raised her eyes to meet his she could see sweat beading on his brow even as he raised his hand with focused determination._

_She was little threatened by the underfed and unarmored enemy. Even his knife was shoddily constructed._

_In his hand, though, he held a worn and tarnished amulet on a tattered leather cord._

_Silver._

_It swung toward her as he thrust wildly with the knife. She instinctively held her hand out to block it. Her palm blistered and burned where the amulet met the flesh of her palm._

_She hissed in pain as she clutched her hand to her chest, her eyes tightly closed. She prepared herself for another blow but before it fell, there was the sound of chairs scraping against the floor and a disgusted grunt from the bar._

_She opened her eyes to see that two of the Queen's soldiers, their gleaming helms still on the bar, now stood and glared in their direction. The entire Inn, the farmer included, had frozen waiting to see what the Queen's soldiers would do in light of the scene._

_The first, a short, stocky man with close-cropped brown hair sneered, "Trouble maker." Red could not tell whether his comment was directed toward the farmer or her._

_His companion, half a foot taller and slender but muscular with pale blond hair and watery eyes squeaked out, "It's our night off."_

_They made their way across the bar, the other patrons jumping out of their way as they approached. Red raised her fists and prepared to fight. The shorter soldier moved within arm's reach and Red braced herself but instead of reaching for her, he landed a blow across the farmer's chin. His companion stepped forward and punched him in the gut. The farmer doubled over and the soldiers grabbed both his arms to drag him outside._

_Red stood watching, her mouth open until they reached the door. The adrenaline drove her forward as the door swung shut and she hurried to follow them outside. They dressed down the farmer with painful-looking, but passionless blows. He put up very little fight as they forced him to the ground. He lay in the mud coughing piteously as a cold rain fell._

_"Stop it!" Red found herself crying out and running forward, placing herself between the soldiers and the farmer._

_The shorter soldier glared at her and sneered, "Oh, shut up" but made no attempt to harm her._

_His comrade added, "You're the reason we're out here and not back in there, enjoying our furlough."_

_"Beating up the best pig farmer in the kingdom," the stocky man kicked mud in the farmer's face as he spoke._

_The taller man followed suit, the mud filling the farmer's eyes, but he never looked away from Red, "Monster"._

_The shorter man spit, "Bitch"._

_The taller man pushed her to the side and moved forward to kick the farmer. They continued to fling obscenities at Red as they methodically beat the farmer._

_She felt tears of rage and confusion fill her eyes as she cried, "I don't understand. I can take care of myself."_

_The taller man gave a bark of laughter, "We know that, Wolf."_

_His friend stepped away from the farmer now, walking closer to Red. "Saw you kill my cousin last Spring. Ripped him limb from limb." He stopped directly before her._

_"Hard to miss the red cloak."_

_Red stammered, "We're...we're enemies."_

_The soldier in front of her shrugged, though his face was anything but casual, "Her Majesty has rules and we don't fancy a meeting with the lash."_

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"The Queen's protection of wolves extends to all wolves. Even monsters like you."_

_"The last time our lot tangled with the likes of you, one wolf died. Just one. The Captain and his Lieutenants died. She snapped their necks with a twitch of her hand. The soldiers got the lash - ten apiece. The courtyard was awash in blood - our blood."_

_As his friend spoke, the man before her held Red's eyes, his own dark and full of anger. He added, "The Queen only has a few rules and you don't break them."_

_"But why wolves?"_

_"You'd have to ask Her Majesty."_

_The taller soldier shivered, "I heard she is one. That the blackness in her heart is of the wolf."_

_Red bristled, "The Evil Queen is not a child of the moon."_

_The man in front of her grinned maliciously, "Maybe, maybe not. A lone wolf, perhaps - driven mad - sick with need of a pack."_

_The taller man approached from behind Red now and growled into her ear, "A feral murderous monster. Like you."_

_"Stop this!" A man's voice rang out from the road._

_All three of them looked up quickly to find a middle-aged man dressed in finery approaching them. "Get him out of here."_

_The stocky soldier bowed his head in respect, "My lord."_

_The taller lifted the farmer up as though he weighed nothing and set him on his feet where he swayed dangerously, "To the dungeons?"_

_The older man shook his head sadly._

_"Back to his farm. The dungeons need no more residents."_

_"Yes, Lord Henry."_

_He tossed each man a satchel of coin. The soldiers bowed and then walked away, the farmer staggering between them. He watched them go, sighed, and approached Red._

_"Are you alright, my dear?"_

_Ruby stepped back, unsure. The Evil Queen's soldiers clearly treated him as an authority figure, which made her feel unsettled as to who he was and what his intentions were._

_"I'm fine. Confused - but fine."_

_Henry nodded, "You'd best run along. This Inn often serves soldiers and not all of them are so loyal."_

_Red's eyes narrowed, "The Inns are neutral."_

_"Only if the owner decrees that it is so. And trust me when I say that the Bell and Crown's current owner is anything but neutral." His gaze lifts to the sign hanging above them where a black crown is emblazoned on a green bell._

_"Who is the owner? For that matter, who are you?"_

* * *

. . . Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.


	19. 03x19 - Heart to Heart

_**The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series** _  
_**presents** _  
_**Virtual Season 3** _  
_**Episode 19** _  
_**"Heart to Heart"** _

_**Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon** _  
_**Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon** _  
_**Written By: Hunnyfresh** _  
_**Illustrators: Napfreak and Fox** _  
_**Edited By: Silverbluemoon** _

_**Advisors and Consultants** _  
**Characterization: Rushemiiaah**  
**Continuity and Consistency: Asraiaysoph**  
**Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic**

_**This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations.** _  
_**It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_**Publication Date: March 6, 2016** _

* * *

Snow had once thought that her bandit days were over. The moment she and David reclaimed her throne, she'd believed the forest and survival skills were behind her. She was a queen and had been raised to understand that her destiny was to take care of her father's kingdom—her kingdom. She should have known better than to let Regina escape her death from the executioner's arrows. They had been playing cat and mouse ever since. And truth be told, she never imagined they'd both be on the same side for once; though currently it was hard to tell if they and their group were playing like cats, strategizing their next move, or running wildly with their tails cut off like little vermin. Days prior, Snow had been ready to admit that they were the hunted here—Pan too omniscient to be surprised—but now, with David saved and their misfit band of renegades circling around a makeshift battle plan drawn in the sand, she felt the tables were turning.

At least, they would turn, if only the group could come up with a suitable plan.

David, kneeling by the plan and drawing chevrons high above the pieces of coconut shell meant to symbolize Pan's camp, spoke. "We can flank them—three archers in the trees," he pointed at each individual chevron. "Snow, Regina, and Neal—the rest of us can move in with swords or magic."

Snow turned her head when Tinkerbell spoke, the fairy leaning against the base of the tree her house was built upon as her curly locks shook in disagreement. "The boys know the trees. Above  _and_  below. They'll have us before Snow White can even cock an arrow from her quiver."

"Do they trust you?" Charming asked. "You live here and obviously you're not dead."

"Obviously," the fairy answered with disdain, crossing her arms over her chest. "They did, once. But now they know I'm with you."

Snow scrunched up her brow in confusion, shifting on the log to get a better look at Tink behind her. "Who told them?"

"The mermaids," Tinkerbell guessed as she waved to her surroundings. "The trees, the shadows? Does it matter? They know that we're here, and they know that we're coming. So no, archers in the trees will not work."

The feeling of dread that Snow had gotten so used to during David's Stone Age returned full force as the fairy stared down at them with hopelessness. Certainly their story was not to end in Neverland with a temper tantrum throwing teen taunting and tricking them. If she could fire off just one arrow at Pan, she could—

"So we wait for night," David decided, and Snow turned back in her spot on the log to place a supportive hand on her husband's shoulder.

It was Neal, this time, who voiced his doubts. "Wait until the shadows are stronger?" He shook his head fiercely as he spoke. "Nope. No thank you."

"What about magic?" Hook asked, kneeling beside the map and pointing a drawing stick towards the blonde and brunette lingering in the clearing of the trees. "Swan and the Queen are walking weapons. Blow up the camp and we can be done with it."

Regina scoffed as she stepped toward them, her voice laced with an edge that Snow remembered from her younger days—the odd biting comments that had always made her feel like a child, no matter how old she was. "So your grand and glorious plan, pirate, is to go in, guns-ablazing and hope for the best? Because that worked  _so well_  last time."

"It worked on you," Snow pointed out, jutting forth a determined jaw and daring Regina to deny her capture.

Regina's lip twitched, and Snow could tell she was fighting to control the dark glare that so easily came to her face when aggravated. "That situation was completely different," she explained, waving her hand in the air. "There were armies, fairies, and allies involved. This is a hostage situation—where, need I remind you, the hostage is Henry."

"I know—" Snow began to argue, but Regina cut her off, the Evil Queen taking another step forward.

"Then you also know," Regina continued darkly, "that this plan requires strategy, stealth, and strength."

Even at this distance, Snow could feel the raw power spilling from her; not as the Evil Queen, no, but as a mother desperately trying to protect her son. 

"And this idiotic plan," she continued, waving her hand to the group in the middle surrounding nothing more than coconut shells, wood chips, and marred up dirt, "is the equivalent of using a battle axe to perform brain surgery."

"Well, what do you want us to do, Regina?" Snow asked exasperated. "Sneak into the camp and slit everyone's throat? They're children."

"No, they're not." Neal stood and pointed outwards towards the trees, his voice rising in passion. "They're tiny terrors. Why do you think they're no adults in Neverland? When Lost Boys start to become men, Pan kills them."

Snow sat with wide eyes as Neal's chest rose and fell with the weight of nightmares she could only imagine. He turned away from the group and slowly sank to his haunches, his head in his hands.

The shrubbery rustled behind her, and suddenly Tink came into view, sorrow and understanding flashing across her features, as the fairy reached out a hand to touch the suddenly immobilized man, but before she could even make contact, he jerked away, nearly stumbling on the dirt in his haste to put distance between them. His eyes weren't as dark as they were a minute ago, but there was no hiding the pain within them.

The rest of the group watched with a mixture of sadness and concern as Neal finally came to his senses, distancing himself from the rest of them as he crossed his arms and schooled his features. There was silent communication between him and Tinkerbell, for the blonde sighed with a bitter shake of her head.

"It's true," she finally voiced before turning back to the group with outstretched arms. "Where do you think the shadows came from? They were all Lost Boys once. Now doomed to serve Pan for all eternity."

"Well that's fucking cheerful," Emma muttered, scowling, very obviously adding in something new to hate about this place.

"So the shadows are magic?" David clarified, standing from his spot. "Like a fairy, but bad?"

Snow caught the slight twitch of Regina's hand and watched as her face darkened in aggravation.

Tink sighed. "Magic isn't that simple. There's no clear cut label of good and evil or right and wrong. It's natural.  _In_  nature. It's part of the world." She waved her arms towards Snow and David and fought to get the words out. "This dark magic versus light magic you speak of has nothing to do with the act. Intent makes it so. That's why fairies are trained for years and are constantly monitored so they remain pure and good."

"And if they're not?"

Face immediately darkening, Tinkerbell crossed her arms and stared incredulously at the newly saved prince. Snows saw that Regina was sporting a similar, if not more threatening glare. Apparently magic-users thought the question dumb.

" _Human_  magic users aren't monitored," David argued when he was met with silence. "No one has ever talked about  _good_  witches or  _good_  magic users.  I've only heard of bad in any realm. Look at Cora, and Rumplestiltskin, and—" his eyes met Regina's.

"Me?" Regina spoke up with a challenge in her eyes.

"Or me?" Emma added, muscles tense, flashing him a dare to take it there. David flinched at his daughter's words, feeling their tentative new bond slipping at what he realized now were foolish words. Foolish words to speak in front of his child—his  _magical_  child. Of course not Emma. Never Emma. His eyes softened and begged her to see the misunderstanding he felt helpless to clarify.

"No, Emma," Snow immediately intervened, soothing. Emma refused to meet her eyes, instead looking away as if she hadn't heard. Snow's heart twitched with a profound sense of loss. It was odd to feel it now even though her daughter stood right in front of her. She, too, glanced away uncomfortably. This was not something to focus on at the moment.

"Humans can be born with magical abilities," Tinkerbell continued, gesturing at Emma, "or learn how to use it." She shifted her gaze to Regina. "There was a time when it used to be widespread throughout the lands, but it's fallen into disuse as there are even fewer who can teach it. Magic is incredibly nuanced and complex."

"I'll say," Emma muttered.

"And  _humans_ ," Tink glared at the rest of them so fiercely that Snow felt personally offended, "don't react well to what they do not understand."

"Magic is emotion, though. That's simple enough," Snow argued, trying to regain a foothold in the conversation.

Again Tinkerbell met Regina's glare and rolled her eyes; the former queen scoffed in contempt.

" _Magic is emotion_  is what they tell children who need a bedtime story about a gallant knight saving a princess with a kiss. That barely scratches the surface." Tink continued, huffing out her explanation. Snow sat up straight in derision, but Tink ignored her. "Magic is endlessly complicated, and the ways to use it are endless. I don't know how it's like it Storytown—"

"Storybrooke," Regina corrected.

"Whatever." Tink dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "In the lands that I do know, humans don't like what they don't understand and that always leads to fear and hatred."

"Thanks, Yoda."

Tink squinted at Emma's reference but seeing Regina's minute shake of the head at her obvious confusion, opted to ignore it. "Yes, well because of that, most magical beings and users become targeted and hunted, all because of scared little humans."

"But magic is dangerous and deadly!" Snow argued. "People have been slaughtered by sorcerers and evil queens."

Regina was a second away from flaming Snow right in the face, but Tinkerbell jumped in, adding darkly, "Fairies can do the slaughtering as well, Your Majesty."

"No," Snow shook her head doubtfully. "No, they don't. They're different. They're light."

"Fairies are of light magic, just like Neverland. They thrive off belief and joy."

"But it's all messed up here," Emma pointed out. "There's no way in hell this place is light magic."

"That's purely Pan's corruption." Regina tagged in, the group shifting their attention from the fairy to the queen. The brunette's voice was soft as she looked solely upon Emma, speaking carefully so she understood. "Remember what Tink said? Magic is about  _intent_. Light magic can be used for evil, and dark magic for good. It is less common practice, I admit, but not unheard of."

* * *

**. . . Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.**


	20. 03x20 - The Descent

_The Once Upon a Time Virtual Series_  
_presents_  
_Virtual Season 3_  
_Episode 20_  
_"The Descent"_

_Executive Producer: Silverbluemoon_  
_Story By: RebelByrdie and Silverbluemoon_  
_Written By: Rebelbyrdie_  
_Illustrated By:_ _TheCecilz and Fox_  
_Edited By: Silverbluemoon_

_Advisors and Consultants:_  
_Characterization: Rushemiiaah_  
Continuity and Consistency: Asraiaysoph  
_Research and Development Assistant: Archaeomedic_

**_This series is Rated M for language, violence, drug references, and adult situations._ **  
_**It is not intended for all audiences. Please use discretion.** _

_Publication Date: July 4_ _, 2016_

* * *

Aurora walked through the mirrors feeling an ominous weight upon her. It was quiet, and even her footsteps on the flagstones seemed muted. The flickering light provided by waist-high oil aquifers made everything seem otherworldly. The entire room was warm and she could smell sandalwood, clove and lavender—faint smells that were only smeared over the dry and dusty scent of death and bone.

Each mirror gleamed as if it had been freshly cleaned by industrious servants. She saw herself reflected over and over again. It was her own personal hell, brought back from her horrifying memories of her time under the sleeping curse. The mirrors, the fire room, and now the dream walking—that thrice damned curse had all but ruined her life.

Then she looked again. No, she realized, they were not all images of herself, or at least not the her that she was. Not at all. They were her, sure, but different. Some, like the slightly-younger girl watching out of a tower window, did not look different at all. Others were very, very different.

She stopped at one, amazed at what she saw, heard—all but feeling the scene transpiring before her. She appeared to be looking through a large plate glass window with _The Briar & Rose_ painted across the top in gold leaf. Inside was a room that Aurora had trouble understanding, it was so unusual. There were pictures, drawings and mirrors and odd chairs, and then there was her—or a woman whose face greatly resembled her own.

The mirror-woman's body was the same, albeit scantily clothed. She wore a small shirt with only half-sleeves, more than Emma Swan's "tank top" but less than the clothing Aurora was used to seeing on herself. She was also wearing blue trousers, much like Emma Swan's. "Jeans", Emma had called them. In this scene, this other Aurora was wearing jeans and a small white shirt with a small pink horse painted on it. Her hair was light blonde and many shades lighter than she'd ever been. There were also purple streaks in it. There was some sort of device in her hand that drew lines on the skin of a long-legged lanky brunette, draped across one of the chairs.

_"Seriously, Dawnie," The woman crooned, looking over her shoulder at Mirror-Aurora, and grinning madly, "You are the best!"_

The other her lightly smacked the brunette's shoulder and matched her grin.

_"Flattery will not get you a discount, Ruby. Now stop moving and let me finish."_

The other her drew—tattooed, she realized—a pastry on the woman's rear and then put the words "Eat Me" over it in script.

Aurora blinked and realized that she had been taking in this scene for some time— how long she did not know. Too long. Suddenly it hit her: Storybrooke. That had to have been Storybrooke, the realm where the Dark Curse had taken so many for so long. Would her name have been Dawnie? Dawn? It was close enough in meaning to her name to be likely. Cursed or not, it hadn't looked so bad. Strange, yes, but her Storybrooke-self had seemed happy.

She moved on then, remembering her quest, shaking the images from her head. She had to find the cord. To save Philip. The crypt's magic, however—for it had to be magic—seemed to steal her thoughts from her, though, because in the next mirror, she saw not her own image, but a full-size image of Philip. He was just as she remembered him: smiling and sweet and dressed in shining armor. The image pulled back and more of the scene came into focus. Philip raised his arm, held out a hand out to his side, and then another her came into view, effortlessly flowing towards him, as all princesses are taught to do. This Mirror-Aurora wore a heavy white cloak meant for luxury, not traveling, and laid her hand ever-so-elegantly across his, as she practically floated into his arms. He wrapped himself around her pregnant belly.

Aurora turned away, because there was pain there. And because she realized that, once again, the mirror was trying to distract her from actually finding the cord to save him.

Laughter—her own—echoed through the maze and she turned around and round looking for the source, disoriented. Had the mirrors shifted?

She turned to her left to continue but another mirror and the image upon in were thrust at her from nowhere. This time, she most definitely recognized the room her other-self was in. It was Maleficent's sitting room. There was only one large luxurious chair in front of a roaring fire place. Mirror-Aurora was draped across it, dressed in a delicate lilac night dress, gauzy and see-through. It was the sort of thing that a good girl wouldn't ever wear. More importantly, she was not the only one in the chair. She was cuddled on a lap. Gold curls and a smirk that she had known and feared for far too long held the other Aurora close. Maleficent. The dragon-sorceress caressed her other self's face, and then Mirror-Aurora leaned forward and met her lips—

Aurora turned away abruptly from the image, inexplicably filled with shame and embarrassment, clutching uncomfortably at her dress, horrified. That was not her. She could never—would never—not with that vile evil woman. Never with Maleficent. She ran then, arms out in front of her, all but hysterical, trying to block the echoing sound of her name pouring from the sorceress's mouth so delectably.

She ran until a welcome visage met her from the ethereal darkness and twinkling firelight: dark hair over flashing dark eyes, a jaw set and firm, the form strong and valiant. Waves of relief crashed over her.

"Mulan!" she cried out and reached for the warrior as her fingers brushed glass and she realized this was just another mirror.

After a moment, it became more obvious that this was not her Mulan. The woman before her wore fine plate armor that glinted and gleaned in the daylight and she carried a shield Aurora had never seen before—a very regal looking shield—with the symbol of the sun on it— _her_ symbol. Mulan's cloak glittered and waved around her form in multiple colors—shimmering in metallic flare like her armor. The scene pulled away and she saw her mirror-self approach—dressed in a gown that matched the cloak of shiny metallic thread; it looked like an actual sunrise." They were in a courtyard—the one she had spent so many hours playing, reading and dreaming in throughout her lifetime.

_"My Queen," Mulan breathed out in that full, sure voice that always made Aurora feel safe and protected and a little weak in the knees, and then she turned toward the mirror-her to reveal a scarred cheek. It did nothing to mar her beauty, though, Aurora thought, instead accentuating her experience and strength._

_Queen Aurora smiled._

Aurora noted that this mirror version of herself _was older_ than she was currently _, the youthful chub gone from her cheeks._

_"My Champion," Mirror-Aurora replied, beaming as she looked adoringly into the warrior's eyes._

Aurora's breath caught in her chest. A Queen's Champion was one of the most powerful people in the Kingdom, as powerful as the Queen, second only to the King. The position was rare, and for a woman to fulfill it, practically unheard of.

In the mirror world, Mulan and Aurora seemed close. Mulan took the queen's hand and kissed it and the real Aurora felt a longing tug in her stomach. She had been thinking she could stay and watch these two forever, just as the image abruptly cut out and the mirrors all around her exploded into a cacophony of images and sound.

More of herself everywhere, in every direction: all sorts of possible pasts, presents, and futures—alternative worlds, realms, perhaps. She was overwhelmed and thrust her hands over her ears and closed her eyes, and ran for all she was worth, desperately seeking an exit, an escape from this madness.

There were mirrors everywhere, though, and each held its own unique scene, many of which she couldn't avoid seeing:

_A thin Aurora, dressed in all black, screaming and swearing vengeance at some unseen person, locked in a cage that looked far too much like the cave prison that had once held the Dark One._

_A happy version of Aurora eating in a place that she knew belonged in Storybrooke, Philip at her side, spooning food to a chubby baby boy._

_A leather-clad Aurora with a large bow in her hands and a quiver on her back. Her hair was cut boy-short and her face was dirty. She was in the trees of some forest waiting to ambush somebody_ — _or something._

_A wedding-day Aurora, dressed in all white-standing across from a man old enough to be her grandfather, saying her vows as tears overrun her eyes._

_A battlefield strewn with bodies (like one of Mulan's nightmares) and a ragged Aurora glaring up at an armor clad and victorious Queen Regina._

_"Your parent's kingdom is mine now, Aurora. The only reason you're still alive is because my dear Maleficent favored you, Princess. Lucky You."_

_Beside Regina, on the makeshift dais on a hill that overlooked the battlefield, Cora stood smiling at her._

_"Don't let your past with that dragon sway you, Regina. Love is weakness. This Princess's head will look nice beside Snow's on the castle wall."_

Aurora choked back a scream and turned away, running again. This was too much. This was not happening. None of these magic mirrors held anything true. They were taunting her.

The mirrors blurred as she ran, her tears and the firelight making it all clash and ebb together. She heard laughter, screams, moans, commands, begging, whispers—all her own. Not _her_ , though. They weren't her. They weren't!

She tripped—over her own feet, or her cloak or a crack in the endless crypt's floor—she wasn't sure which. She only knew that she was running and then she was falling fast. She landed hard, her knees cracking and palms scraping against the rough, cold stone. Her teeth slammed together with a hard click over her bottom lip, bringing blood, as she hit the floor. Tears sprang to her eyes, and for a moment she stayed on the ground. Her chest was heaving and she hurt and everything was just _wrong_. She wanted Mulan to come find her and make it better. Her tears fell harder as she felt disgust with herself, feeling like she should have known she couldn't handle this alone. Then something hardened in her, and her fingers scraped the stone as she pulled them into fists. Mulan was busy! Aurora had abandoned her warrior to fight Mordred all on her own. So this _—_ whatever this was _—_ was Aurora's quest, _her_ part to deal with. She couldn't wait for a knight in shining armor to rescue her this time. _They_ couldn't wait. People were counting on her. People she loved! She looked up from the floor and saw flickering firelight reflected off of a single, floor-length gilded mirror in the middle of the chamber. All the other mirrors, and the images that they held, had silenced, disappearing into blackness. There was now only the one, and an otherworldly light was focused there.

She pushed herself to her feet, and told herself she was ready for anything.

* * *

**. . . Thank you for reading! You can now receive update alerts by subscribing this story here on ao3 (or following/favoriting on ff.n), as a portion of each new episode will be uploaded in both locations as soon as we publish on our main site. Please find the rest of this episode *AND* its amazing illustrations at ouatvs *dot* com.**


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